Destiny: A Song of Three
by Melaradark
Summary: A left-of-canon fic following the storyline and events of the MMO Destiny. A new Guardian has just been revived from the remains of the Ancients. She's been awoken to a world she doesn't know, a war that seems doomed to be lost, with no memory of her past or self. Possible future romance included, possible F/F.
1. Chapter 1

A/N:

I know I'm still working on DA and WC (with Citadel on hold for now) but this story has been rattling around in my head for months now. Originally I was going to wait until I had finished up with WC before starting it but it's driving me mad, so…here ya go.

As the others, I will try and get a chapter up as often as my schedule and circumstances allow. As all my fics, this will be left-of-canon and explore some deeper nuances of culture, especially Guardian culture, in Destiny. It will not be an exact replica of the game and I will add my own touches to it. It will not be necessary to have played Destiny to read my fic and follow it, but I do not apologize for any spoilers so keep that in mind.

It is unknown at this time if there will be any romance, or if said romance/romances will be F/F, M/F, M/M, etc. Knowing me at some point there will be one, and it will probably be F/F but nothing specific is planned as of yet.

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Destiny: The Song of Three**

* * *

It was near to midnight, but even were it midday there would be no light here. The blizzard that had been raging full force for hours had consumed the world in a dark curtain of cloud, wind, and viciously driving snow.

The rusted skeletons of cars rattled and groaned against the force of the wind, which was strong enough that the snow could find no real hold save in the lees. The scrubby plants and short trees that had grown over and through the old concrete highway and entwined themselves in the wrecks had withered and shrunk back against the bitter cold and driving gale, but here and there an old branch thudded against metal, or broke away to fly off into the dark.

A light glimmered.

Inside one of the smaller ruins in the midst of the endless field of decay, the Ghost emerged from what had been a glove box, the light shining from it to play almost solemnly over the frame of what had been the vehicles' front seat, ages ago.

A small robotic device the size of a large clenched fist, the Ghost almost tentatively hovered, drifting a few inches forward before its light shifted toward the empty frame of the passenger side window. Reflecting that light, the driving snow winked and flashed as if millions of lightning bugs were swarming.

The wind was lessening now, it seemed. Another hour and it should be safe enough for it to continue on.

Like a bird snuggling back into its nest, the Ghost moved back again, into the shelter of the glove box, and settled. Its light dimmed slightly as the slits over its ocular aperture closed halfway. The blizzard outside would drive even the Fallen to seek shelter, but there was no purpose in giving away its position, nonetheless.

Resuming its wait for the storm to subside, the Ghost let its thoughts drift a little.

It could not sleep, not as organic beings understood it, but then there was much about Ghosts that organic beings still did not understand. This particular Ghost was older than it should have been- older than most Ghosts who were still Seeking. It had been wandering for quite a long time now, ever since the moment it had been born within the depths of the Traveler.

The Ghost could not be sure, but it suspected that its particular mission was not quite the same as those of its siblings. Ghosts were born of the Traveler- formed of its tech and its Light, with a very singular purpose. They sought out the remains of the Ancients and when one was found that suited the Ghost's intended drive and purpose, they transferred much of the Light within them into the remains. The Light then- through a method even the Ghosts could not fathom- rebuilt the dead and restored them to life.

The Ghost was then bound to their single restored individual for the rest of both their lives. These restored individuals had little to no memory of their previous life or who they were before they had died. Not that it much mattered- what was important was their new life, what they had been resurrected _for_. Every soul brought back to life by the power of a Ghost was from that moment on a Guardian- charged to do what the Traveler itself could no longer.

That was how it was _supposed_ to work anyway, but this Ghost suspected its purpose might be different. It had seen its siblings- born both before and after itself- find their Guardians without much trouble. They scanned the boneyards and ruins on every planet that was accessible, their initial charge of Light sufficient to rebuild a person even from the smallest sample of DNA left behind. When they found a sample with the qualities they were looking for, it was done. Sometimes it might take a Ghost a few weeks to find a match but that was unusual- any longer was rare enough to be unheard of.

This Ghost had been Seeking, nonstop, for six years now. Such a search had only happened a few times before; perhaps four in the entire history of the Ghosts. Each time, the lonesome Ghost had continued its Seeking for years until it seemed to give up and shut down, its Light returning to the Traveler. That is, if it wasn't destroyed by accident or attack in the meantime. There were many out there, the Fallen included, that would destroy a Ghost on sight if they could.

This Ghost was not yet ready to give up, but over the last few months it had grown more and more despondent- or as close to despondent as such a thing could become. Were it organic, it might have been called 'depressed'.

A true understanding of this was beyond the Ghost, but it knew that it had something very specific it was looking for, some requirement that didn't apply to the other Ghosts and the ones they Sought. There was something very important the Traveler wanted (inasmuch as the Traveler could 'want' anything anymore). The Ghost had a strong sense that its predecessors- the ones that had fallen into despondency and returned to the Source- had been looking for the same thing. Perhaps said predecessors had even been carrying the same Light inside them that _it_ now did. Perhaps they could even be said to be this Ghost's previous incarnations.

It didn't know. Ghosts were highly intelligent and privy to all sorts of information and abilities, and they all remained connected in some way to the Traveler- but as to the Traveler's mind, intentions, or motivations, they neither understood nor could explain. If they got anything directly from the Traveler, a rare event indeed, it was usually no more than impressions. Something an organic might call 'a gut feeling' or 'intuition'. The Traveler itself was deceased- or so close to it as to make little difference. Its construction and distribution of the Ghosts seemed almost a reflex action, the equivalent of an unconscious kick of a foot or twitch of a hand in an organic who was otherwise braindead.

The raging storm seemed to have calmed further, the wreckage that was the Ghost's shelter not rocking or groaning so violently now. Opening its oculus wide again, it carefully moved once more out of the glove compartment and tentatively surveyed the outside scene. It was still snowing heavily, the clouds still low and threatening, but the wind had died dramatically and the blizzard itself seemed to be over. Now no longer at risk of being blown madly a thousand miles in any direction, the Ghost abandoned the wreck of the car and once more began to Seek.

Still mindful of being spotted by the Fallen, it remained low among the twisted graveyard of endless cars, constantly scanning for any hint of DNA (or the shell signature of an Exo which often also suited Ghosts, though it would be very surprised if it came across an Exo here). Whenever a hint of sentient organic residue was found, it was carefully evaluated and then, inevitably, discarded.

There was quite a lot of DNA here, which is why the Ghost had come here to begin with. During the end of the Golden Age, this had been Russia, one of the thriving sanctuaries of mankind on Earth. It had been all but a paradise, and a massive staging area for the colonies and interstellar travel.

This particular highway went to one of the largest Cosmodromes that had been in operation at the time. As that paradise had been torn apart, millions had fled along this highway toward the Cosmodrome, hoping for escape, for survival. Very few had made it. The graveyard of cars stretched nearly six hundred kilometers, and were strewn inside and out by the bodies of the dead.

Of course, time and the elements and wild beasts had left little of those bodies still intact. Rarely, the Ghost would find an actual bone or skull, or even an entire mummified corpse hunched in a back seat, but only a single sample of DNA mattered for its purposes. A single hair, or cell would be enough, and those kinds of remains were all throughout this devastation.

Moving slowly, taking its samples, the Ghost wove along only a foot or two above the ground. Occasionally it lifted and dipped into a car before emerging again, but more often than not it could enter through the open trunk without rising too high and risking its light being seen further on than it wanted.

An hour passed, then two. The night grew thick and still. The snow fell in heavy curtains, and with no wind now to clear it away, it was starting to heap up on the broken concrete.

The Ghost searched.

A broken section of the road had sent several cars and blocks of stone and concrete tumbling into a frozen gully a dozen feet below. The Ghost descended, examining every inch of this gully over the next hour, before it reluctantly rose again to the opposite side of the break and continued on.

Then, out of the dark, the looming humps of much larger vehicles had appeared. Old trucks that looked almost like troop transports lay on their sides or sagging on their broken rims. A few scraps of canvas still clung to their frames. There was a slight clear space between the last of the cars and these trucks, and here the Ghost found two old and broken femurs, some teeth, and quite a lot of bullet casings. From the scorches and holes in both the trucks and the cars they were blocking, it seemed clear some kind of firefight had occurred here.

The Ghost carefully scoured over the troop transports and the bone fragments hopefully. The remains of someone who had been military was far more likely to match its search than a civilian- but it was to no avail. Reluctantly, disheartened once again, it moved to the cars and almost half-heartedly scanned. After this, it would pass the troop transports and continue along the end of the freeway and into the Cosmodrome-

-….

- _this could not be!_

The Ghost's scanning beam had passed over the grill of one of the cars pitted with gaping holes, its bumper sagging and so rusty it had formed thick stalagmites that nearly hung to the ground. As it had, the Light inside the Ghost seemed to leap and burn with sudden heat.

Almost tentatively, it passed the scan beam over the same spot, and immediately the Light burned again. Were the Ghost organic it would have been shaking. As it was, it was so taken aback by the discovery of what it had so long searched for that it did absolutely nothing for several minutes but hover, light affixed to the bumper. Around it, the snow billowed gently and continued to fall.

Then, as if it were a mouse creeping up on a sleeping predator, the Ghost inched forward slowly. As it drew nearer to the bumper, its light narrowed and moved, searching. There was no visible sign of organic material. No mummified body parts, no smear of what had once been blood. Perhaps…perhaps that single spot among the rust, which seemed slightly darker?

Carefully, it focused its scan beam once again and pinpointed it on that spot. The Light burned once again, such a hot and vibrant leap of joy that the Ghost darted back and up into the air, spinning madly for a moment. A sound much like a giddy laugh escaped it. While all Ghosts were perfectly capable of talking- in many different languages- this was the first time it had ever used its voice. As if some kind of electronic dam had been broken, the words came out in a rush.

"It's you! I found you! I found you! Oh…oh, let me think. I must think…yes. Too cold here, you'll need shelter, some clothes. Won't do to bring you back and have you freeze-"

Its light beaming gaily, the Ghost darted into the night, zipping through the vehicles. Capable of fabricating many simple things digitally so long as it had a sample of workable material, it quickly scanned the remnants of the canvas, leather, and musty cloth clinging to both the trucks and the insides of the cars.

Inside the bed of one of the military trucks it found some empty metal boxes that had been looted of their contents years ago. In fact, it was a bit surprised the boxes themselves had not been taken, but no matter- this would suit its purpose.

Heading back to the car bumper, almost afraid it would scan this time and there would be nothing, it gave another little spin of joy as the Light inside it danced again.

Focusing on the spot and doing the equivalent of an organic taking a deep breath to prepare, the Ghost narrowed its beam.

" _All right…let's get this done."_

* * *

The sound of cracks rang through her head, deep in a thick darkness. Muffled voices, echoing shouts. They were there and gone again.

Cold. Slowly, achingly, she became aware of incredible cold. It seemed to congeal through her flesh, seeking her bones and encasing them in ice. With a convulsive motion she shuddered violently, arms winding around her torso, her knees drawing up.

" _It's all right, you're all right. Take it easy."_

A voice was speaking. It sounded male, comforting, but she could not understand the words. She shook her head once, still shuddering violently, and something stringy whipped over her face. Remembering she had eyes, she opened them.

Strands of hair crisscrossed her face like cobwebs. It was dark around her. There seemed to be only a single light, bobbing up and down a bit in front of her. The wind was blowing and it was like claws made of ice digging into her skin. She was sitting on the ground- which was cold and wet- with her back against something that was also cold and wet.

 _Where...what….?_

" _You're all right,"_ the man said again. She thought he must be holding a torch on her, and that was the source of the light.

"Ya vas ne ponimayu," she said through her madly chattering teeth. She was wearing some sort of thick leather vest over a shirt that felt almost like…canvas? On her feet were heavy rubber boots that seemed clunky and nonfunctional somehow. "Kto ty? Gde ya?"

" _What? Oh, I forgot!"_ he said, and then suddenly she could understand him. "You would be Russian."

Russian? Was she? She couldn't think of what 'Russian' meant, but at least now he was speaking words she could understand.

"Who are you? Where am I?" she repeated. "It's so cold-"

"Yes, sorry. I did what I could with the clothes. Can you walk? There is shelter just over here. Warmth."

Warmth sounded like such a good idea at the moment that her confusion could wait. Still shivering, she tried to get to her feet. Her legs felt weak and shaky and halfway through rising her head began to spin. She stumbled and nearly fell, sagging back to her knees with her hands braced on whatever it was she had been sitting against.

"It's all right," the man said gently. "Just take it slow, the effects of regeneration will pass shortly."

Effects? Pass?

Warmth. It was the only concept she could focus on. Bracing her hands on what she could now see was a rusty old scrap of a car, she pushed herself to the clunky, shapeless boots. The wind whipped her hair into her face again and stung like a dozen needles. She hugged the leather vest around herself and hunched. The torch was bobbing a few feet away as if the man could not hold it still. As she started toward him, he retreated backward into the gloom.

"In here," he said as they reached an old truck half listed on its side atop another crushed wreck. With some effort she climbed up into the pitted bed. The high sides of the truck cut down on the wind but it was still dreadfully cold. She hunched against one side, hugging herself tighter as she did so. A few feet away an old metal box had been tossed.

As the torch approached it she saw it wasn't being held by a man at all. Instead, it was a little machine, hovering on its own in the air. It neared the box and then turned to her and blinked.

"This should warm you up," it said cheerfully. She watched as it turned back toward the box. Some kind of beam came from its aperture, and the metal of the box slowly began to heat up, soon glowing red, then orange.

The heat was so strong and welcome it was almost painful. She shifted closer to it, holding her hands out toward the box and rubbing feeling back into her fingers. As they began to throb and tingle, her brows knit and her rubbing motions slowed to an almost exploration as she looked at her hands.

"Who are you?" she asked after a moment, looking from them to the little machine. Her brows knit tighter in confusion. "And who…am _I?"_


	2. Chapter 2

"I am your Ghost," the little machine said, sounding pleased. Her fingers were aching now and she shook her head once, the action more another strong shiver than a conscious motion.

"Ghost?" she asked. "I don't understand. Who am I? I don't- I can't remember anything…"

"I know, I'm sorry," it told her. "There is going to be much you don't understand for a while, but I will do my best to help you. Let's take this one step at a time."

The metal box had started to cool. The Ghost turned toward it and heated it up again with that beam and she nodded gratefully, moving her hands closer to it again.

"Sometimes," the Ghost said, looking back at her, "with a lot of concentration, a name can be remembered. Not always the whole name, but the first name at least."

"What?" she asked, looking at him stupidly.

"Names are a very intrinsic part of an organic's identity," he said. "Names are associated from the moment an organic is born and is reinforced throughout their entire lives. Concentrate if you can, see if you can remember it. What is your name?"

She blinked at the thing once, then twice. Her brows knit up again and her mouth worked into a tight frown of concentration.

 _My name…_ she thought _. My name. Think. What is my name?_

It wasn't easy. Her mind was a swirl of confusion. What was this little bot machine? Where was she? How had she gotten here? The dark black that preceded her wakening in the road just a moment ago was an impenetrable void that both worried and outright scared her.

Trying to sort through the confusion she kept repeating to herself over and over again: _My name…what is my name? My name…_

After a long minute of silent struggle, the Ghost made a sympathetic sound. "It's all right," it said gently. "Sometimes the name just can't be remembered. You'll just get to pick a new one."

She looked at him as he reheated the cooling box again. "Perhaps…" she said slowly. "Perhaps if you take me by surprise?"

He turned back toward her. "Surprise?"

"Yes," she said. "We can talk…about something else. Like what I am doing here, and who you are. Then, when I'm not thinking about it, ask me my name. Maybe it'll be a reflex, and I'll just give it without thinking."

"Huh. That's an interesting idea," he said thoughtfully. "Well, won't hurt to try."

"So…what _are_ you? Can we start there?" she asked.

Occasionally turning to reheat the metal box, the Ghost started to speak. He didn't first tell her what he was- clearly thinking she wouldn't understand without a bit of background first. Instead, he started the tale much further in the past and built up to it. He told her about human civilization, about the discovery of the Traveler on Mars long centuries before. He told her about the Golden Age that the Traveler's arrival had ushered mankind into.

"Sadly, we don't know much about the Golden Age. Quite a lot of it was lost in the devastation when it came to an end."

His ocular light seemed to indicate the landscape around them, outside the truck. "It was terrible. All of mankind's great cities, colonies, accomplishments, torn into ruins in a matter of days."

"Is this…is what is out _there_ , is it all that is left?" she asked quietly.

"Not all, but most, yes," he said. "There is a city… _the_ City, the last one on Earth or anywhere else. Billions died when the Golden Age ended, some say trillions. The few who survived fled back here, to Earth, to the City. And that's where they remain, the last of their species."

"But…what caused this End? What happened?"

"The Traveler had an enemy, something the Ancients called the Darkness. We're not sure now exactly what or who the Darkness is, but it was the cause of the End. The Traveler was able to save the City and those in it, but at great cost. The Traveler is badly damaged now, dormant- some say it is dead, or so close as to make no difference."

"And the Darkness?"

"Gone. Maybe nearly dead itself, no one knows for sure, and many fear it will be back."

This sounded like a fairy tale, a story told over a campfire somewhere. She had no context for its reality, for even starting to be able to accept it as fact. Of course, she had nothing to suggest it was not fact, either.

"And…me?" she asked. "Where is it we are now? What happened to me? Why can't I remember?"

"Right now, we are in what used to be Russia," the Ghost said, reheating the box. "Near one of the old Cosmodromes. It used to be a launching station for the colonies. During the End millions tried to flee the devastation of the Darkness here. That's what all those cars are out there, this truck. That…is where you come from."

"Where I come from?" she asked. "I don't-"

"You lived during the End," he told her kindly. "You were here, then, fleeing from the Darkness like those millions of others, most likely. Here is where you died."

She looked at him, the word _umer_ not really sinking in. Died. She had died?

Giving her a moment he continued. "When the Traveler drove away the Darkness, it was too badly damaged to continue, and it knew this. It created the Ghosts- still creates them now and again in a sort of unconscious reflex. These Ghosts- like me- are tasked to find those who can do what the Traveler itself no longer can. They're called Guardians. _You_ are a Guardian."

"I died, and now I'm a Guardian?" she asked flatly.

"Yes," he said. "Ghosts contain enough Light to regrow an organic from the smallest DNA sample. That is what I did with you. I found a sample that matched what I was looking for and used the Light inside me to…bring you back."

Thinking about this too hard made her feel sick, so she decided to just accept it for now. There wasn't much else she could do and she was too exhausted, cold and confused to even want to try. "Can you not bring back everyone who died then?"

"No. A Ghost only has enough Light to reconstitute a single person, and in doing so most of that Light transfers to the person they bring back. The Light I used to resurrect you is inside you now; it is part of you."

She pressed a hand to her chest and rubbed lightly, as if suddenly seized with momentary indigestion. The action was unconscious.

"Part of me?"

"Yes," he said patiently. "I have enough Light remaining inside me that I can interface with what is inside you. That allows me to heal you of almost all wounds if I need too. I can even bring you back from the dead again- in some circumstances. So long as I get to you fast enough, and you are in a large enough piece."

She must have suddenly looked both green and horrified, because he moved back an inch or two and seemed flustered.

"What I mean to say is it isn't- I mean, you're not immortal now if that's what you are thinking. You can still be killed, and if you are- if I'm gone or can't help you in time- it'll be permanent. The Light now inside you, it also does more-" He seemed suddenly eager to get the subject off of death. "Depending upon any aptitudes you might have, it will also grant you certain abilities. It can take what is written on your DNA and enhance it exponentially."

She shook her head again, clearly not following. He heated up the box again. Outside the wind had died down once more and the snow was thinning.

"Well, ones wiser than I will have to explain to you- mentors, other Guardians. I have been searching for you, so I have not spent time at the City or in the Tower. There is much I myself don't know. Suffice it to say that the Traveler made me to find you to be a Guardian of mankind in its stead- one of many. And the Light that now dwells inside you will help give you the abilities and tools you need to fulfill that duty."

She was quiet a very long while, long enough for the Ghost to heat the box up again twice. Finally she said slowly, "If the Darkness is gone, what do Guardians do? What do they guard people _from?_ "

"The Darkness may be gone, but it had its servants as well," he said. "There are also others who simply want to take advantage. Mankind isn't alone in the system. There are the Fallen, the Cabal, the Hive- here on Earth the Fallen are the most concerning. They would delight in nothing more than to take down the City and kill every last human being alive. What is your name?"

As she had suggested, he asked the question when she was least prepared for it, her thoughts now completely on the concept of hostile alien creatures she was going to have to fight to save a dying human race.

It worked. As he asked, she got a momentary flash of memory- the only thing yet to have broken the impenetrable darkness that swallowed up everything before waking in the freezing cold.

A single image, quick as an eye blink. Someone smiling at her, a radiant smile that seemed as bright and hot as the sun, and in the wake of it she blurted out her name.

"Minerva Anosova."

"Ha!" The Ghost said, and gave a quick little spin. Though it had no face or any features a face would bear, she could have sworn it was grinning at her. Then it dipped forward a bit in a little bow.

"It is my honor to meet you, Minerva Anosova."

* * *

She had slept some. The discovery of her name- the only thing that actually felt solid and real in the entirety of her short life- had seemed to bring home exactly how cold, miserable, and exhausted she was. Without apology, she curled up in as tight a ball as she could, as close as she could to the metal box without risking a burn, and all but plunged into sleep.

She awoke an unknown amount of time later thickly drowsy, feeling as if every part of her body had frozen. It was the Ghost that awoke her, his little shape hovering close to her nose.

"Come on, you need to get up," he said, sounding heavily concerned. Her eyes slammed shut again almost immediately, and she mumbled something incoherent even to her.

The Ghost prodded her again with something that stung her cheek sharply, and she blinked stupidly at him.

"You need to get up," he said. "You're hypothermic. I didn't revive you just to let you freeze to death all over again."

Wearily, her gaze turned to the cold metal box nearby. Without her having to ask the Ghost said, "It's not enough to keep you as warm as you need," he said. "The sun is up but you'll still freeze to death if you stay asleep. I could bring you back, obviously, but I think you'd probably rather avoid that if you can. We should be moving anyway."

It looked out of the gaps in the truck almost worriedly. "Now that its daylight and it's stopped snowing the Fallen will be on the move. They won't waste a chance to kill you and destroy me if we're spotted, and in your condition, with no armor or weapons, you won't stand a chance."

In stiff, jerky, exhausted motions, Minerva managed to push herself up into a sit. She was so cold she wasn't even shivering any more, and her very organs felt encased in ice. Her hands had gone flat white, her fingers blue to the palm. The tips of several had patches of both white and black growing on them.

"Frostbite," the Ghost said. "Easily fixed. Hold them out."

Moving close to her hands as she stiffly obeyed, he passed a kind of thin beam over them. With a throb that felt like it was pushing sludge through the thin veins of her fingers, the patches of white and black shrank and vanished, and some of the color came back into her fingers.

She tucked her hands into her armpits. Thought came as slowly as motion did, and every fiber of her wanted to lay down and sleep again. Struggling against her stupor she said, "Where…do we go..?"

"I've sent a signal to the other Ghosts," he told her, passing that glittery beam over the rest of her. "The Tower will not leave a newly born Guardian exposed like this- they'll send someone to pick us up as soon as they can. Until they do, we need to get into the Cosmodrome. It offers cover and shelter and may even yield up something in the way of supplies."

The beam switched off. "There, that should at least make it easier to function. Healing takes a lot out of the one being healed- the worse the injury the worse the exhaustion. I'm sorry for the discomfort, but if I put you at perfect health and keep you there, you'll be so exhausted by it you won't be able to move."

She did feel better. Movement was easier, and though she was still horribly fatigued, thinking was no longer nearly impossible.

The Ghost bobbed out of the truck and took a quick look around before signaling her to follow. Somehow she managed to get out of the truck bed without falling on her face, and with a shuffling motion, she started to follow the little machine.

The sky was almost painfully bright though still overcast, clouds as white as the snow high overhead. As they left the truck, Minerva got her first real look at the world into which she had been so recently born.

The highway was so broken and overgrown only scattered slabs of concrete and shattered pillars showed it was a highway at all. Horribly rusted and battered by the elements, all the vehicles still on it had turned the same color- an almost necrotic orange yellow. Most of the vegetation she could see was scrub grass, jutting out of sweeps and hillocks of snow, with the occasional stumpy and thorny tree to add variety.

They wove through the graveyard that had once been a highway, the Ghost careful to find and lead her along the most level and easiest paths. The air was still bitterly frigid, and what little healing he'd managed to do seemed to be succumbing to the cold again. She couldn't do much more than shamble, hugging herself in her flimsy canvas and leather clothing.

About a mile ahead the highway took a bend to the left, and less than a hundred yards after that, huge walls as rusted and battered as the cars loomed into the sky. The highway seemed to vanish into them, the cars and trucks piled up right to what looked like a massive pair of gates that were only slightly ajar.

When they reached the leftward bend, the Ghost healed her a bit again. She felt simultaneously better and more drained, and she understood what he meant by exhaustion. The shapeless rubber boots on her feet felt as if they were actually made of lead, and her muscles barely seemed to want to cooperate.

They trudged on, but they had only made it about a hundred feet past the bend when a strange distant howling suddenly split the cold morning air. Minerva looked up at the sound, and the Ghost started darting about, turning his oculus in every direction.

"Wh-wh-what was that-t-t-t?" she asked. The healing had pulled her out of hypothermia enough to start shivering, and her teeth were chattering like mad.

"Fallen," he replied ominously. "Not close, but I think we've been spotted. Come on. We're nearly there."

He started on again and she hurried in his wake as fast as she could, her rough shamble transformed into a wearily staggering walk that did not give her progress much more speed. Ahead of them, the small gap in the Cosmodrome gates grew slowly nearer.

They had almost reached it when another howl broke out, this one sounding much closer. It was such an odd sound, animal yet like no sound any real animal would be capable of making. She wasn't eager to meet the thing that made that sound- certainly not while half frozen and unarmed.

 _Unarmed…would you even know what to do with a weapon if you had one?_

At the very end of the highway, right in front of the gate, the rusted wrecks were piled so tightly against each other that at first Minerva thought she would have to climb them. It was a feat she was pretty sure would be impossible in her current condition, but thankfully the Ghost bobbed sharply to the left and lead her through a thin gap. Just as she reached the looming dark of the gate, something blue and strangely swirling sailed past her face. She felt a momentary flip, as if a light breeze had gone past her face, then the quick whiff of burning hair. The blue light struck the edge of the gate in front of her and scorched it.

"The Fallen!" the Ghost said, alarmed. "Hurry!"

She ducked into the black shadow of the gap and fumbled forward blindly for a second. Then the Ghost was sailing past her, its ocular light brightening and illuminating her path. Just past the wide gates there were yet more wrecks, the light carving them out of the darkness. The entire path forward seemed to be blocked, but an old stairway so overgrown with rust it looked like coral was to their right. She turned toward it, wondering how many steps she'd get up before she either collapsed or the Fallen shot her in the back.

Then suddenly there was even more light. Something dropped down in front of her from off of one of the trucks, the only sound a faint flap of cloth. Minerva jolted to a halt as a figure rose up in front of her. She could see no features, just a smooth mirrored blank plate, visible over some kind of scarf wrapped around what would be the nose and mouth. Over the figure's head was a fabric hood, attached to some kind of cloak or a cape.

The figure was a good deal shorter, and she gaped down at it. A face gaped right back up at her from that mirrored plate, and she hadn't even processed that it must be her own reflection before the looming barrel of a pistol pointed at her nose took its place.

" _Hello,"_ said a tinny, chipper female voice. _"Drop please?"_


	3. Chapter 3

Minerva didn't understand the words, nor did she quite realize she had cocked back one shaking fist in a highly ungraceful motion, but her Ghost's shout overlapped the stranger's 'please' and what he said she _did_ understand.

"Drop!"

Minerva fell, her stiff arms capable of doing little more than preventing her face from bouncing on the cold concrete floor. In the same breath that she hit the floor, the world seem to explode in roaring gunfire that rang back upon them in echoes just as furiously loud. The noise was like knives stabbing into the sides of her head. Unable to do anything else, Minerva clenched her eyes shut, pressed her hands over her ears, and waited.

A voice, high-pitched and garbling, hiss-growled in anger. There was the faint snap of cloth, then more gunfire that now sounded as if it was coming through a thick blanket. Then even that sound narrowed into a painful high pitched ringing made her ears feel stuffed with cotton and left her effectively deaf.

She couldn't tell when the gunfire or sounds had stopped. As far as she could tell she hadn't been shot, but that didn't mean she wasn't about to be. She was too stiff, cold, and exhausted to do anything but neither could she just lay here like a lump waiting to be killed.

Every motion requiring an almost inhuman effort, she managed to lift her head and look around. Two slumped forms lay on the ground in the thin shaft of light coming through the gap in the gates. She could make out little detail of them other than the shape of their heads was definitely not human.

There was no sign of the hooded figure. Minerva's Ghost was hovering just over her head, almost protectively. She felt a sluggish surge of affection for the little thing.

She heard a distant and muffled humming. An attempt to sit resulted in her barely getting an elbow underneath her and levering herself up. Light passed over her face, and there was a sudden painful pair of pops in her ears. Sound rushed in and she winced back against it.

"Sorry about that. Without ear protection the noise of the weapons damaged your hearing," her Ghost said. It turned toward the gap anxiously. Now that she could hear, a few scattered shots coming from outside it were clear. The Ghost fixing her hearing was welcome but it sapped her of yet more of her feeble energy, and she slumped back down. She didn't even have the strength left to care what happened any more.

She thought she may have fallen asleep. The next thing she was aware of was a hand lightly gripping her arm. It felt hazy, like a dream, and she didn't open her eyes. A voice said something she didn't understand, and she heard her Ghost reply in the same language. Next thing she knew, someone was hauling her up into a sit and her arm was being pulled around a small pair of shoulders.

" _C'mon, Sleeping Beauty. Time to wakey wake."_

She still didn't understand the words but she managed to get her eyes open this time. The woman in the scarf and hooded cloak was back, hauling her up to her feet. Vaguely, Minerva was aware that a second Ghost, identical to hers, was bobbing around nearby as well.

She wobbled a bit as she got fully to her feet. This time when the woman spoke, so did Minerva's Ghost. He spoke almost simultaneously with her words, but in Russian, and in an imitated female voice that sounded identical to the stranger's.

"Wow, you are a big one! No wonder where they'll stick you. You steady, Asteria?"

She didn't know what that last word meant, and could not think enough to figure it out. "My name is Minerva."

When she said this, the other Ghost suddenly spoke in _her_ voice, but in whatever language it was the stranger spoke. Minerva realized sluggishly the pair of little bots were translating.

"Ehn, Roman, Greek, it's all big columns and togas isn't it?" said the stranger affably. "Are you steady? We've got to move and I can't have you keeling over."

Minerva hadn't felt less steady in her life, not that it had been a very long life. Still, she nodded her head. She wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep again. The blank mask seemed to regard her warily, then the stranger nodded and carefully took her hands away. When Minerva stayed on her feet, she nodded again. Reaching up she unhooked her cloak, and then slung it around Minerva's shoulders. While the fabric looked thin and all but decorative, it was surprisingly warm. She immediately clutched it about herself, shaking.

"Just don't tell anyone I let a Titan wear my cloak," the stranger said with what sounded like a grin. "Right then. This way."

They worked their way slowly through the tightly packed cars. The stranger seemed to have realized taking Minerva up the moldering stairs or over the wrecks would have been impossible, but she seemed to have an uncanny knack for finding a way through the heaping wrecks where no path seemed to be.

With the inexplicable warmth of the thin cloak, Minerva felt some of the sludge in her mind melt away. Her feet and fingers had started to prickle and ache, and the chill still stung her face, but she was no longer shivering violently.

They were in a massive room the size of a cathedral. Her shuffling old-lady footsteps seemed to echo everywhere and there was no light beyond what the two Ghosts produced. In contrast, the stranger was making no sound at all as she moved. The pistol she'd pulled before was on her hip, and she had what Minerva took to be some kind of long rifle in her hand, but it was like no rifle she'd ever before seen.

 _How do you know?_ she thought with a weary amusement, and for a moment tried to chase a memory that just wasn't there.

They had gone what felt like miles before the stranger spoke again, the helmet half turning back toward her. The Ghosts translated as before, mimicking their voices to do so.

"So, you remembered your name? Or did you just pick one you liked?"

"I remembered," Minerva said.

"First _and_ last," her Ghost added almost proudly.

"Nice! I'd say I was wrong, that they'll make you a Warlock, but there's no way that will happen. Not with hands like _that._ "

Minerva looked down at her hands gripping the cloak closed over her chest in confusion. What did she mean? What was wrong with her hands?

"My name's Kalina," the stranger said, and she dropped back to Minerva's side and offered her palm. Min stared at it a moment before something seemed to glimmer. Slowly, she reached out and took the offered hand, shaking it slowly.

The stranger had a good grip, but her hands were small and slim and long-fingered. As Kalina released the handshake, Minerva looked at her own hand again, glancing between the two. Her hand was big, blunt, and solid in comparison.

 _Maybe that's what she meant?_

"What's a…Warlock?" Minerva asked after a moment, gripping the cloak again.

"One of the Classes," Kalina said, and then looked at her Ghost. "Didn't you tell her?"

"I have never been to the Tower," the Ghost said almost sheepishly. "I didn't feel I was the right one to explain it."

Rather than annoyed, Kalina seemed to be delighted with this. " _Swift!_ All right, I'll break it down for you then. We're Guardians- I assume your Ghost explained that much?"

"Yes."

"Right. Well, when a new Guardian is brought back- 'born' as we call it- the Light that reanimates them also pumps up certain talents, in that individual, and gives them a few new ones. Physical, some of them- like denser bones and muscle fibers, or increased nerve transmission to speed up reflexes, that sort of thing. Depending on these enhancements and talents, the Guardian is then adopted into one of the three Classes that best embodies those talents. Warlocks are one of those Classes- they're the brain-gods you know; wicked smart, devoted to study and research. They have an increased number of synapses and a few more weird brain changes that makes them kind of savants. They're a bit weird sometimes, I myself don't understand half of what they say."

Minerva squinted at her, her weariness making her feel stupid. She was confused what that had to do with her remembering both her first and last name, or why her hands would dismiss Kalina from the consideration that she'd be a Warlock.

"Then, there's the Hunters," Kalina said proudly. "That's my Class. Cunning, quiet, fast, a bit dashing and cleverly roguish if I do say so myself. We do things with style."

Kalina did seem to think quite a bit of herself but she said it so happily it was hard to put an impression of haughty egotism on the words.

"Then there's you, Big Girl," Kalina said, giving a faint gesture in her direction. She still sounded as if she were grinning. "You're going to be a Titan."

"Titan?"

"Big and strong, my friend. Big and strong. The Immovable Force. Big fists, big guns, big courage, big _everything_. Solid enough to get hit by a truck and just shake it off. Think of it this way. Warlocks are bullets, Hunters are knives, and Titans are wrecking balls."

Minerva didn't know if she was 'big' or not. The only comparison she had to go by was Kalina. She was certainly taller than Kalina, and seemed a bit broader, that was true. Her hands were bigger, as she'd noticed. If Kalina were herself average than Minerva would indeed be a small giant. If Kalina was tiny compared to nearly everyone, though, how did Minerva know _she_ was anything other than average?

She didn't. That was the long and short of it. She just didn't, and until they ran into a few more people, she wouldn't. She had no reason to doubt Kalina's word however, nor could she come up with why the Hunter would lie to her. As with everything else thus far, she had little choice but to simply accept it, and little strength left to her to really question it.

"I don't feel much like a wrecking ball," she said. Kalina eyed her. At least, Minerva assumed she had- it was all but impossible to tell behind that face mask.

"Revival does that. First time, everyone's as weak as a newborn, and you had the added bonus of being born in below freezing temperatures without much in the way of clothes."

"I did the best I could with what I had," the Ghost said.

"I'm sure you did, Sparky," Kalina said. "My point is, Mini- we don't come into this world at the top of our game. Birth of any kind is a violent and draining activity. There's a reason the Tower doesn't leave newborns out by themselves if they can help it."

"Were you weak when you were…born?" Min asked.

"Are you kidding me? They had to carry me to the Tower and I slept for two days. The fact you're a newborn that's up, walking, and talking despite being a giant canvas flavored popsicle is another reason I know you're a Titan. They'll keep going even if you shoot a leg off. I know. I've seen it."

She suddenly giggled, the sound echoing and making Min blink in surprise. "…just a flesh wound!" Kalina said, then giggled some more. Whatever the joke was, she didn't explain and Min didn't ask.

They had gone pretty deep into the complex by now, the cathedral like room having been replaced with dark close corridors that reeked of metallic water, rust, and loamy soil. Here, it was almost hot, and Min had stopped gripping the cloak as closely around her. Every inch of her skin seemed to be throbbing or burning at her as her half-frozen flesh began to wake up. She suddenly became very aware of how desperately hungry she was. She felt as if her stomach had been gored.

Before she could ask if Kalina had any food, a blast of fresh and frigid air hit them once again. She had started pushing the cloak away a little; now she snatched it back around herself.

"Here we are!" Kalina said as she stepped through a bent doorway just ahead. It didn't lead outside exactly, but the large room was lacking a ceiling. Bent and twisted scraps along the tops of the walls showed it once had possessed a ceiling, probably back when the cars out there had been running.

Scrub grass and thin, skeletal bushes had grown around the edges and floor of this room, and heaps of rust that could have been anything from equipment banks to conference room tables, formed uneven mounds.

In the center of the room was something that Min's brain helplessly called a 'space fighter' but with no accompanying meaning or context. It was a vehicle of some sort, small and bearing broad patches of metal that didn't quite match. She knew that it could fly, but she couldn't tell how she knew this. She knew those long parts under the squat little wings were weapons, but she didn't know how she knew that either.

As Minerva shuffled into the room after Kalina, the Hunter looked up at her Ghost.

"Binky, can you power us up?"

"I'm on it," her Ghost replied in a lightly feminine voice, before it zipped off to the fighter. As it neared the hull, it seemed to break apart into sparkles of light, and vanish.

"You call your Ghost 'Binky?'" Minerva's Ghost asked dryly.

"Of course I do!" Kalina replied, with the kind of astonished tone that suggested she thought it quite unimaginable she'd call her Ghost anything else.

Min's Ghost turned to her and said softly, "Please don't call me Binky."

Minerva just shook her head. She was still eyeing the fighter.

"This is yours?"

"Yup," Kalina said proudly. "You're lucky. I was already doing patrol in this area when the call came in about a newborn. That's how I got to you so quickly."

Behind her, the fighter suddenly started to make noise- a deep humming throb of engines, a whir of air exhaust, and thin jets of steam escaping from a vent or two.

"It doesn't look big enough for more than one person," Minerva said, looking at the narrow cockpit skeptically."

"It's not. You're going to have to ride digital."

"Digital?"

"The fighter contains a matter transference pad," her Ghost told her, as if determined to be helpful. "It can turn matter into energy and vice versa. Normally a pilot is transformed into energy, the energy is moved into the cockpit, and there reconstituted back into matter. For you and me, we will simply remain as energy- digital information- held in the pad until we get back to the City. There, we can be returned to physical form on the landing gantry."

"The pad can hold up to twenty digital signatures at once," Kalina said proudly. "Let's even small vessels like this carry quite a number of personnel or a large amount of supplies if needed. Don't worry, you won't feel a thing or have any perception of time or what's happening. It'll seem like you just popped from here to the City in a nanosecond."

As she spoke the Hunter reached out and carefully took her cloak back, re-fastening it around her own shoulders. "Won't do to show up at the City with my cloak on a Titan," she said. "Remember, me letting you wear it- that's just between us."

Minerva nodded. She didn't know why it mattered but she still didn't really get any of this so it was as normal as everything else thus far.

She couldn't be sure but it seemed like Kalina winked at her, before she started strolling backward toward the fighter. "All right Binky, bring us aboard. See you in the City, Mini."

A sweep of light consumed her from the feet upward, dissolving her away almost as fast as Minerva could register it was happening. The moment the Hunter vanished, Minerva felt a sudden static tingle along her own skin, a rush of soft vibration. The room around her vanished. For a single beat, less than the blink of an eyelid, everything was a soft pearlescent gray color. Then, the same rush of vibration and she was standing on a narrow metal bridge in the middle of a well-lit hangar. Dozens of people were walking everywhere, equipment and carts were moving this way and that, and she could see another fighter up on some kind of scaffolding. Sparks were flying from it as tiny figures sealed down metal patches similar to those that dotted Kalina's fighter.

Min wobbled a little as she gaped around in disorientation, and she felt her elbow caught.

"Careful there, Mini."

She looked to see Kalina at her side. The Hunter's helmet was off, tucked under her other arm, and for the first time Min saw her face.

She looked almost human, save that her heart-shaped face had a faint dusky blue gray color. Her hair, wild and choppy and asymmetrical, was a dark blue so deep it was almost black, save a single slash of bright purple. Her eyes were blue, the irises actually notably luminescent, as if tiny sapphire lights beamed out of them. Around her temples and the edges of her cheeks, black tattoos formed lines almost as jagged as the edges of her hair. Whether it was make-up or natural tone, her lips were nearly as purple as the streak in her hair.

"Welcome home, Titan," she said, her grin showing astonishingly white teeth. "Welcome to the Tower. What's say we go get a cheeseburger, eh? On me?"


	4. Chapter 4

Minerva didn't know what a 'cheeseburger' was, but the hint of food had started her stomach howling painfully. The intensity of it drove even the heavy weight of exhaustion back a little.

All was detached and dreamlike as she followed Kalina over the gangway and into a corridor. Min's concentration wouldn't latch onto anything around her for more than a moment. The walls and floor were of concrete, and she had the impression of various colors and signs now and again. Faces passed them, voices and sounds everywhere. It blurred together into a muddy mess in which no distinct word or expression would surface.

It was warmer here, of that much she was certain. The ice that had encased all her organs and squeezed her heart was thawing into a deliriously welcome but painful slow burn as nerves woke up.

Then she was sitting down at Kalina's direction. This simple act brought the thundering exhaustion to the fore. In only moments her head started to nod forward, black draping like a blanket.

The smell of food. Her stomach roared again and drove the darkness back. She was already lifting her head, gritty eyes opening, when Kalina gently touched her shoulder to rouse her. A tray slid onto the table in front of her.

It was flimsy blue molded plastic. Thick slabs of toasted, grainy bread stacked one side of it, smeared with a dark green paste. In the center, a healthy portion of a sort of casserole. It was the color of dingy socks, with chunks of yellow noodles and pockets of ground meat. On the side opposite the bread, a heap of little fried nuggets made a low mountain.

Barely had the tray halted than she had a slab of bread in one hand, several of the nuggets gripped in her other. With no thought for manners or decorum, she started cramming food into her mouth. In seconds, most of the fried nuggets and slabs of toast were gone. She gripped a large spoon only because Kalina passed it to her. She started in on the casserole, shoveling it in her mouth without pause.

Less than two minutes passed before she was scraping the last of the casserole gravy from the tray. The nuggets were now only a dusting of crumbs- same the toast. As she lifted the final bite to her lips, the tray slid out from in front of her and a new one slid into its place. Without a beat missed, she continued to eat.

It was not until halfway through this tray, the howling monster in her gut starting to calm down, that she started tasting anything. The flavor of the bread was strong and gritty. The green paste tasted of salt and vegetable. The casserole was bland in comparison. The fried nuggets had a good, rich taste to them, and crunched when she finally remembered to chew.

Kalina, who had remained silent, returned again as Minerva closed in on the finish of the second tray. With perfect timing, she slid yet a third tray into the place of the second as Min finished its last bite. This time, she also set down a thick mug of something that was a creamy gold color, and frothy. Putting her spoon down, Minerva reached for the mug, took a healthy swig, and then lowered it again. It was good, and seemed to set off a low and pleasant warmth in her stomach. As she set it down she looked at Kalina, who had finally sat down opposite her. Still hunched possessively over her tray she said, "Thanks."

Kalina smiled and gave a nod. She had her own tray now as well, but hers did not bear the same food that Minerva was eating. She had a single bowl, piled with what looked like squares of a dark blue gelatin, a heavy cream poured over them. She was also eating with far more decorum, a sight that suddenly made Min aware of how her own frenzied gluttony must have looked.

Sating the howling beast in her gut, however, had brought the other beast back with claws and teeth. Her exhaustion came in a heavy, sweeping blanket, and she still had a bite or two left of her third tray when she started nodding off again.

Some of the fog cleared a bit later and she realized she was walking, going somewhere. Kalina's hand was on her arm, guiding her. There was a door, and then her back came up against a thin, hard little cushion. She seemed to fall right through it, plunging into a sleep so deep life itself seemed to stop.

* * *

There was a soft weight on her chest. She had no idea how much time had passed as she slowly became aware of it, along with the rest of her body. It was warm, this weight, and it seemed to be softly and rhythmically vibrating. Awareness brought with it curiosity, and she cracked her eyes open to regard it.

For a moment, there was a blaze of warm light that washed out her vision. She closed her eyes against it, then tried again. This time, color and shape came into focus.

A large pair of half-lidded eyes the bright color of copper regarded her from only a few inches away. She stared back at them before recognition floated out of the black that was most of her memory.

It was a cat. Pale gray in color, he was large and burly, his weight not insignificant. It had curled up quite content on her chest, his paws tucked under so that he looked as if he had no paws at all. Seeing her eyes open and regarding him, the soft purrs that were vibrating her lungs gained immediately in strength and volume. He seemed pleased at her seeming admiration.

"Who are you then?" she asked. Her voice felt dry and gritty, and she licked her lips. Though still a bit tired and weighted down, she felt quite good. She tried to remember how she had gotten to this place, but she had only vague images once they'd arrived until this moment. Images of concrete halls, of voices and signs, and of a tray of food sliding under her nose.

At the thought of the food her stomach woke up and started telling her it wouldn't mind having some more- no, not in the slightest. Shifting a bit, she got into a sit. The cat, dislodged by this motion, leapt onto the floor and stretched out on his side, still purring.

She looked around. The room she was in was incredibly small. It looked little more than a broom cupboard that had been set up as living quarters. She was sitting on a metal cot topped with a foam mattress that was only an inch or two thick. It stood against one wall, and by sitting on the edge of it and reaching out a hand, she could touch the other wall with her fingertips.

There was a door to her right. In front of her was a beaten dresser, wood and covered over with stickers that had peeled or been half torn off. Some were of cartoonish characters, others words she couldn't read spelled out in bold, primary colors. The top drawer was standing open a bit and seemed set lopsided in its track. Just to the right of this dresser there was a doorframe without a door. Past it she could see an even smaller space, and a toilet.

To her left, a grimy window was set into the wall. Most of the light filtering through this window was a dismal swampy gray, but one of the panes had long broken out and from it a shaft of brilliant sunlight streamed through, casting a puddle on the ground. The cat was now sprawled in this puddle, eyes half shut yet still rumbling like an idle engine.

The door to what she assumed was the outside stood closed, and the missing pane was far too small for the cat to have gotten through, so she figured he must have been in the room already when she'd been brought here. Then she noticed part of the wall was a slightly different color in a two foot square right near the floor. She started at it for a moment, when it suddenly lifted and another cat strode in through the flap.

This one was smaller, patched with black and rust and white. It greeted the cat on the floor, barely gave Minerva a look, then stretched out in the little edge of the puddle of sunlight the bigger fellow had not already claimed.

She rubbed a hand over her face. Two pressing issues demanded her attention, and her rumbling stomach was not the most insistent. Rising, she went into the little bathroom and took care of one of them. A tiny sink that hadn't been visible through the door from the cot was on the wall. As she went to wash her hands, she noticed a slab of well polished metal had been set over it as a mirror.

She had caught a momentary, distorted reflection in Kalina's helmet back when they had first met, but there had been no time to take it in or note its features. Now, leaning on the sink, Minerva looked into her own reflection for the first time.

A familiar stranger looked back at her. She could not say what she had expected to see when she first looked in, but once she'd caught sight of herself she also couldn't say that she had expected to see anything different.

She had blonde hair. It was straight, and fell to her shoulders, every strand the same length. It was the most perfunctory haircut she could picture having.

Her skin was Nordic pale, her eyes the blue of denim. Those were the exact words that came into her mind when she looked into them- _they look like denim_.

At the same time, she could not have explained what denim _was_ to someone who asked.

Her face- and for that matter, the rest of her- was far too thin for her frame. She looked like someone who, at a healthy weight, would be rather robust; someone normally round and rubenesque in proportion, but who had been ill or starving for a long time. Her cheeks and eyes had a caved in look. She looked… _deflated_.

Her facial features were strong-a square jaw, a stern chin, a straight nose. This thin she looked older, scowling and severe, like an irritated bird of prey. Filled out properly, she suspected she wouldn't be bad looking.

She was still looking at herself when motion caught her eye. Her Ghost appeared in the mirror as it hovered into the room, drawing to a halt over her shoulder.

"Not what you expected?" He asked as she kept looking at herself.

"I didn't expect anything," she replied, then looked at his reflection. "Where were you?"

"I was in the dresser drawer," he said. "The cat kept trying to catch me."

"I feel like I slept for years."

"It wasn't years," he said. "It was two days."

She blinked at him. "I was asleep for two days?"

"Yes. Well, thirty six hours. You needed it. And you probably need more food."

She nodded slowly, then turned and stood in the bathroom door. Someone had taken her boots off of her before she'd gone to sleep, though she was still wearing the make-shift canvas and leather clothes. Spotting the boots just under the cot, she went and sat down and then drew them out to put them on. She stopped, surprised.

These were not the same clunky, shapeless rubber boots. These ones were new, finely made, with thick, flexible soles and steel enclosing the toe. Drawing one on and lacing it up, she found they were just her size.

Thinking that other clothes might have been left for her too, she got up and dug through the dresser, but the warped and sticking drawers were empty.

Both the cats had now disappeared. Their puddle of light had travelled to the base of the wall as the rising sun shifted. Min looked at her Ghost.

"Do you know where to get food?"

"I can get us back to where you ate last night," he said, and she followed his bobbing form out through the door and into a corridor.

It was concrete, as she remembered. The hall was large enough to drive a jeep down, and was lined with similar doors, some plastered with stickers, nametags, or signs. Looking at them, Min quickly looked back at her own and saw a peeled spot where a long sticker or tag had been removed. A piece of paper was in its place. In large, round writing the name 'Mini' was scrawled on the paper, and it was held to the door with grinning cartoon cat stickers.

The grin on the stickers made her smile in response, thin and brief as it was. She'd have no trouble finding her door again so long as she got back to this hall. Following the Ghost, she headed along it.

There were other people there, a dozen easily. Some were coming in and out of rooms, some just traversing the corridor. Some were dressed in what looked like armor or riot gear, carrying weapons. Others seemed to have jumpsuits that smacked of maintenance or mechanical work. Some of the clothing was in a mish-mash of clothes that didn't always go together or seem to make sense. One man, thin and with a prominent Adam's apple, was wearing a black and white checked shirt with a bright green vest over it.

She saw human faces, as well as faces that were like Kalina's- with pale blue or purple or gray skin and hair, and luminescent, brightly colored eyes. She was nearing the end of the corridor when she saw a man that looked synthetic, like an android. He moved as fluidly as a human being but seemed made of metal, silicone, and other materials she could not name. His eyes were red little lights set deep in their sockets, and similar lights shone near the corners of his jaw. He was armed and armored as well, and paused to speak to the skinny man in the green vest. Ghosts moved this way and that, or hovered over shoulders here and there.

None seemed to pay her much if any mind. There were a few casual glances her way but everyone seemed too wrapped up in their own business to care about another face in the hall. What puzzled her most were all the cats.

In the same hall she saw five or six more. Some strolled without concern, or sat grooming themselves. One or two ducked in or out of similar flaps as she had seen in her own room. As she kept following her Ghost, she kept catching sight of more.

Her Ghost led her to a set of stairs- she remembered the stairs. Bright banners were hung from the high walls in the stairwell, holding symbols or words she did not recognize. A pair of pale green men with blue hair were coming up the other way, their bright yellow eyes animated. One held a heavy stack of books in his arms, the other had what looked like a series of papers and notes. Neither glanced at her as she pressed to the wall to let them pass without knocking into them.

The stairs let out into an even wider corridor. This one had worn and beaten rugs of varying designs softening the concrete underfoot. Great pillars flanked broad and bright window so the right, where various arches and doors opened to the left. More cats- two or three- clustered together in the puddles of light cast by each window. Drawn by the sunlight herself, and curious as to what lurked outside this place, Min headed toward the windows. She halted before she reached them as someone nearby said her name.

"Mini! Welcome back to life!"

Kalina was striding toward her. She was dressed much the same as before, with a hooded cloak draped over her back. Her dark blue hair was messily fly-away as if she'd done no more than ruffle it after waking. She was grinning.

Happy to see a familiar face and conscious that their Ghosts had resumed translating for them, Min nodded to her. "Thanks. I didn't mean to sleep so long-"

"Newborns do, do you remember me telling you that? Some aren't up and about this soon. I'm not surprised if you don't remember. Most of what happened after we got here is probably a big blur- you were all but dead on your feet. I bet you're hungry aren't you? Come on. After you eat we can take you down and get you tagged and official."

"Tagged?" Min asked as she followed Kalina toward one of the distant doors. Kalina lifted a thin finger and tapped at what looked like a decorative bit of jewelry clinging to the crest of her ear.

"It's a data tag," she said. "It stores your Ghost in digital form and allows them to still communicate. It also acts as a short range locational tracker in case you're out of commission and your Ghost isn't responding. Binky?"

Her Ghost, who had been following along at her shoulder, dissolved into a stream of light. Kalina tapped the cuff on her ear meaningfully.

"Now she's in here," she said. "We can still talk but in the field it keeps her from being out and at risk unless she needs to be. You'll get an engram too."

A moment later, Binky rematerialized from nothingness and returned to floating behind her shoulder.

They had reached the door and stepped in. It was on Min's lips to ask what an 'engram' was when the smell of food hit her.

The room was long and meandering, spotted with mismatched furniture. Cloth hangings of various designs hung over the walls, the floors spotted here and there with small rugs. Tables and chairs of various sizes and varieties scattered without seeming rhyme or order everywhere. A low and tattered overstuffed couch took up part of one wall with a narrow chipped table that was pitted, burned, and stained.

In one corner there was a short counter ended with a pile of plastic trays, utensils, and napkins. Another metal person- this one looked far more clearly artificial and far less sophisticated than the one she'd seen outside her room- stood waiting at this counter. Behind it, a pair of swinging doors with round greasy windows were set. There were distant clatters coming from behind them, and threads of steam and the smell of food was leaking through the gap between them.

Kalina walked over and plucked the top tray off the pile and handed it to Minerva with a grin before picking up one for herself. "Shall we?"


	5. Chapter 5

A/N:

For those of you who read this but not necessarily my other stories, a quick head's up. For the next several weeks, until about mid-December, my posting is going to be even slower and more sporadic than usual. A trip out of the country and little things like 'getting married' are going to be happening so I apologize in advance. Things shouldn't stop altogether but just wanted to make you aware. Sadly, this chapter is a skosh bit short but hopefully good for all that. Thank you!

* * *

When Minerva sat down with her tray, the food on it didn't seem to have changed much from previously. There were the same slabs of grainy bread slathered in that green paste; the same fried nuggets heaped to the side; the same mug of golden, frothy drink. The only thing that had really changed was the casserole. Instead of noodles, dingy gravy, and hunks of unidentifiable meat, it consisted of potatoes, dingy gravy, and hunks of yellow that she suspected were eggs.

Incredibly hungry though not starving as last time, she ate with far more decorum, curiosity prodding her to ask Kalina about her meal.

"What's this?" she said, lifting one of the bits of bread and indicating the paste on it.

"Winter food," Kalina told her, then explained. "The City grows what vegetables we can but greenhouses for growing over winter are limited and we have the entire City to feed. Doesn't get too terribly cold here but cold enough we can't grow a lot of the summer food. Whatever vegetables are left from summer and fall get boiled, ground down, and mixed with salt and yeast into that spread. Lots of newborns don't like it at first but some think it's good."

Min didn't mind it. She supposed hunger was a spice that would turn almost any food delicious. She shifted her fork, pointing to the main dish.

"And this is…eggs?"

"Eggs, reconstituted potatoes, nothing shocking. Though I suppose that gravy is a bit of a shocking color, isn't it?" She smiled.

"And these bits? I think I like these the most," Min said, picking up a small handful of the nuggets.

"Oh, those are crickets," Kalina said. Min paused and looked at her, nuggets halfway to her mouth.

"Crickets?"

"Yes," Kalina said, smiling. "Easy to raise on nutrient extracts, wonderful source of protein. As you can imagine, large scale ranching and raising of livestock is impossible in the City. There is _some_ livestock- a few cows, goats, pigs and such- mostly chickens- still domesticated and in town. Beyond the wall there's a lot that's long gone feral and wild again and we do kill them and bring them in for meat when we get the chance, but it's too dangerous to do on any large scale. So, red meat is rare. Fish is almost nonexistent. Chicken is more plentiful. Insects, however, are abundant and take far less room and resources to raise large scale."

Minerva looked back at the nuggets in her hand a moment, then mentally shrugged and popped them in her mouth. They were tasty. Who cared if they were crickets?

Clearing her mouth with a swig from her mug, Minerva then pointed at Kalina's food. As before, she was eating only a small bowl of some kind of gelatinous squares, covered what looked like cream. The sole difference Min could see was that these ones were a bright emerald green, and the first lot had been blue.

"And what are you eating?"

"Oh!" Kalina looked down at her bowl as if noticing it for the first time. "This is called styur. Nutrient cubes. You wouldn't like it."

"How do you know?" Min asked. Kalina laughed.

"You're human, silly. You taste things differently. To me, your food would taste like old sweat socks. I know, I've tried it. I can eat it if I desperately need to but I would not enjoy the experience. To you- I've heard styur tastes to humans like spilling a little bit of gasoline on the tread of an old automobile tire and licking it off again. Oh, and this-" she indicated the white cream "-is apparently remarkably similar in taste to wood glue."

Min grimaced and recoiled a little, and Kalina laughed again, then offered a spoonful. "Want to try it?"

"No, thank you," Minerva replied, prompting more giggles. After they'd gone back to eating for a moment, Minerva asked the next question in her head. "So…you're not human? I mean, I had already kind of figured…"

Kalina looked at her and smiled. "It is a bit obvious isn't it? I'm Awoken. We're not human…not anymore."

Min blinked. "Any _more_?"

Kalina nodded. "No one really knows why. During the Collapse several ships managed to flee Earth…and then something happened to them. Even our most educated don't know what it was. Whatever happened changed the survivors into…well, Awoken."

"What could do something like that?" Min asked. The skin and hair color was one thing, but what could turn normal human eyes bioluminescent like that?

"Your guess is as good as mine," Kalina said, but Min only half heard her. She was wondering suddenly how she knew what 'bioluminescence' was.

For the briefest moment she felt on the verge of a memory- but if it was there, it sank back into the abyss of black without surfacing enough to get a clear look at it. She was tempted to chase it, but she had no doubt it would ultimately be futile. So, instead, she looked up from her plate toward the synthetic serving the food.

"There are robots too," she said, as if Kalina had never noticed this fact. "I saw some outside my room that were very sophisticated."

"Those 'sophisticated' ones would be a bit upset if you called them robots," she said. "The ones doing menial tasks, like the server- they're AI but they _are_ robots. The other ones, those 'sophisticated' ones you saw…those are Exo. Obviously they're synthetic AIs and were built at some time during the Golden Age but- they're so far advanced even the Ghosts don't understand their internal workings. They're as sentient as you or me. They are also revived as Guardians by the Ghosts and you'd be hard pressed to find any difference between them and a human being save in appearance."

Minerva picked at the last dregs of the breakfast casserole she had left, but before she could ask another question, one of the Exos they'd just been discussing strode into the room and right toward them. He- judging by the proportions Min at least assumed he was male- was wearing a hooded cloak much like Kalina.

"Good morning ladies," he said cheerfully. His voice sounded like any human's, but with a faintly tinny edge, and whenever he spoke yellow lights flashed in his mouth. Whatever language it was he was speaking, it was different than Kalina's, but Minerva's Ghost translated it into Russian with as much finesse as it had hers. "So this is our newborn?"

"This is Minerva," Kalina said, beaming a bit as if she'd given birth to Minerva herself. "Mini, this is Cayde-6. He's the Hunter Vanguard."

"Vanguard?" Min asked.

"That's what they call you when they imprison you in this tower and never let you see the sky again," Cayde said, then let out a laugh at the expression that must have crossed Min's face. "I'm kidding. Sort of."

"The Vanguard head and mentor each Class," Kalina said, as Min wondered if _all_ Hunters were… _goofy._ "They're the best and most highly skilled members of their faction."

"And so naturally they keep us here and out of the field where our skills would actually be useful," Cayde said cheerfully.

"You're useful, Cayde," Kalina said. "Planning missions, conglomerating intel, overseeing training-"

"Annoying the other Vanguard?"

"That too."

"Have I ever told you that you're my favorite Kalina?" Cayde asked.

"Course I am," Kalina said, as if there was no room for the slightest doubt, then looked at Minerva. "Thank goodness you're not going to have to put up with _him_ as your Mentor. Every time a Hunter leaves the Tower he practically latches on to their ankle and begs them to take him along."

"Just the ones that have nice legs," Cayde said. "But what makes you think our new friend here _won't_ have me as a Mentor?"

"Oh c'mon, Cayde, look at her. She's a Titan if I ever did see one."

"Now now, didn't your mother teach you not to judge by appearances?"

"Possibly but as I can't remember the slightest thing about her-"

Minerva observed this back and forth with a kind of bemused bafflement. Both of them spoke so quickly, ribbing each other with a swift ease that seemed only possible with rehearsal. As she doubted the Hunters went around rehearsing conversations and comebacks just to impress newborns, it had to be natural.

"Think of Oscar," Cayde said. He now seemed to be appraising Min again.

"Oscar's an aberration," Kalina said. "Nine times out of ten you can tell just by looking what Class a newborn-"

"But that always leaves the tenth," Cayde said, then grudgingly added. "I agree though. She does smell all sorts of Titan-ish, doesn't she? Well, we'll find out soon enough. Get her down to get tagged and then to Lord Shaxx."

"Who's Lord Shaxx?" Minerva asked.

"He's the one that will be determining your Class," Cayde said, "through a little thing we like to call the Crucible. Don't worry, it's easy enough. About the third time you get your head blown off you get used to it."

Min stared at him, unsure if she'd heard this correctly, and then unsure if he'd been serious. Before she could speak though he clapped a companionable hand on her shoulder and gave her a cheerful, "Good luck! Kalina, leaving her with you for now. I think I heard Zavala talking about the Twins in the Crucible today too so should be a bunch of giggles."

"Oh, no," Kalina said with a weary sigh. Cayde clapped her shoulder too then headed off again, whistling.

"Was he serious?" Min asked, looking at Kalina who now had her face in her hands. She looked up between her fingers with a faint groan.

"What about?"

"About getting my head blown off?"

"Yeah."

Minerva stared, and Kalina sat back and looked at her. "The Crucible is a controlled combat arena," she said. "Lord Shaxx puts newborns in there to see how they handle it- what their fighting style is like, their tactics, and their gifts. That's how he determines who belongs in which class. Veterans fight in there too, to test out new weapons or just to improve their skills or to have fun."

She leaned forward and looked at Min intently. "Understand this now," she said in a low but kind voice, all joviality now gone. "You _will_ get shot. You _will_ get killed. Likely more than just once. It's an observed and controlled environment. Your Ghost will be with you and in no danger at any point. You'll be revived again if you die or are hurt, just like he revived you out in the field the first time. The Crucible isn't just to determine Class or to keep skills honed, Mini. It's also because you need to know what it _feels_ like to be shot, to be dying, _to die_. The survival instinct is still very strong in Guardians and it doesn't get overridden easily in most. When you're out in the field, fighting a real enemy- if you have a moment of panic when you're badly injured, or if you flinch because you're afraid of the pain of getting shot or killed, or you give up because you feel that sensation of death creeping into your bones- that could mean the _real_ deaths of not only you and your Ghost, but everyone in the City and everyone that serves the Light. You can't hesitate when you're facing a dozen Fallen to guard some nomads…Ghosts won't bring _them_ back if you're knocked out and the Fallen kill them before you're revived. You've got to conquer fear, pain, and death in combat- and the only way to do that is to fear, hurt, and die in combat. Over, and over and over. Does that make sense?"

Minerva nodded slowly, but the clench of nerves in her gut and throat threatened to bring her food up again.

Kalina looked at her gently. "You look green," she said softly. "That's ok. What you're feeling right now is ok, Mini. It's normal. As I said, the survival instinct is incredibly strong. You'll master it. And they'll make sure you've mastered it before they just toss you into the field."

"What about exhaustion?" Minerva asked, and hated how small her voice sounded.

"You mean, what you felt before, when your Ghost revived you?" Kalina asked, then nodded. "What you felt when you first woke up- it's never that bad again. That came from your entire body being rebuilt from just a strand of DNA, and in your case, then nearly freezing solid on top of it. Healing like _that_ is a one-time deal. Getting mended from wounds, even horribly fatal ones, will still make you tired- the worse the wound the _more_ tired- but nothing like that again. Repeated rehealings will eventually exhaust you and I'm not going to lie- your first few days here after the Crucible you're going to sleep like the dead. But it won't be like it was before. In the field if you're getting healed and revived as often as you would in the Crucible you're doing something wrong and you shouldn't be out there. And if there's nothing left of you but a strand of DNA again it won't matter anyway, because even a Ghost can't revive you from that a second time- they don't have enough Light left for that. I know I'm probably not making you feel any better…sorry."

Min sat back in her chair and shook her head. "You're all right," she said. "It just-…"

"Millions of years of human evolution and the drive to live is hard to overcome," Kalina agreed. "But you're a Guardian. And you'll kick its ass."

She suddenly gave a bright and cheerful grin, and Min couldn't help but chuckle weakly at it. The Awoken patted her hands firmly on the table and got to her feet. "So, we might as well get it over with," she said. "Unless you want more food?"

Minerva was quite sure her stomach wouldn't allow her to eat another bite without refunding all she'd already eaten, so she shook her head and got to her feet as well. They dumped their trays and headed out of the mismatched little café and back into the corridors of the Tower. They were heading down a stairwell when Minerva remembered something Cayde had said, and Kalina's reaction to it.

"Who are the Twins?" she asked. Kalina gave a little groan again, seemed to contemplate a moment, then let out a resigned sigh.

"A pair of Titans," she said. "Good. Deadly good. Couple of the best actually. Old veterans."

"And they're actually twins?"

"Seem to be," Kalina said. "Funny story that. Both born within a week of each other- Nara was found by her Ghost on Earth like you were, in what used to be Spain I think; Blayd on Venus in the ruins of one of the old cities there. Spitting image of each other, at least in looks. They don't remember their lives before their Ghosts found them of course but they took to each other immediately. Act like siblings. You half expect them to finish each other's sentences but thank God they don't- that would really be creepy."

"And you don't like them?"

Kalina gave Min a sideways look and an uncomfortable shrug. "It's not that I don't like _them_ ," she said slowly.

"One of them then?"

"I like Blayd all right," Kalina said with that resigned sound again. "Nara scares the styur out of me."

"Oh?"

"She's just…never mind. I don't like speaking ill of another Guardian. You might get on aces with her, who knows? That's for you to judge on your own fairly. Don't need my opinions of other people coloring up yours before you even get a chance to form them. I will say this though. With those two in the Crucible today- you _will_ get your head blown off. Better start telling it goodbye now."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I'm baaaack!

* * *

The data tag was no big deal. It was applied by one of the AIs that Minerva thought of as 'robots', who did it as efficiently and wordlessly as someone might brush a fly off one's shoulder. The briefest of pinching pains was the only thing to mark its insertion. Her Ghost dematerialized and reappeared two or three times to test it was working properly, and that was that.

Then, the same robot handed her a strange item out of a locked drawer. About five inches in diameter, the object was made of some kind of glass or gemstone, and bore the shape of a dodecahedron.

 _How do you know what a dodecahedron is?_ she wondered briefly while examining it. It was a milky white color, and quite firm.

"This is an engram?" she asked Kalina, who was still hovering nearby.

"Yes," Kalina said. "It's kind of a portable transmat, used for gathering anything useful. Sometimes while we're out, we come across relics of the Golden Age, or strange tech, or data caches. Your engram does the same as a transmat does for us: it translates anything you find that you think might be useful into a data signature, which it then stores. When you get back here or somewhere safe, you can reverse the process and rematerialize everything in its matter form, or download the data into one of the computer hubs for analysis. Material only; it's too small to have the sophistication to translate complex organisms."

"So…" Minerva looked up at Kalina from the little object on her palm. "…it's a means to be able to scavenge efficiently."

Kalina grinned. "Pretty much. There is so much from the Golden Age we don't know, and so much of it is still lying around out there, or in use by the enemy. Anything we can find is a help, but Guardians need their mobility and to be able to fight. It makes it much harder if you're lugging around a crate of GA tech you found in a bunker that's been undisturbed for centuries."

She passed Min a small, hard pouch with a snapping lid. The pouch itself felt like metal but looked like plastic. Min slipped the engram inside, snapped the lid closed, then fastened it to the flimsy rubber belt she wore.

"We'll get better clothes downstairs before we see Lord Shaxx," Kalina told her. "You ready?"

 _Ready to get slaughtered over and over again by veterans who think it's a game? Is there_ any _ready for that?_ Min thought this, but did not say it aloud. Instead, she only nodded, and followed Kalina out of the robot's little cubicle.

Each time they had left an area, they had headed downward. By the time they reached what looked like a small cluster of cobbled together shops formed of scrap metal, it felt as if they had been travelling downward forever.

 _Just how tall is this tower?_ she wondered.

The shops were clustered in a room large enough to be a small town square- and indeed, that's what it most closely resembled. It was as busy here as it had been in other areas, and just as the little café where they'd eaten, most everything looked as if it had been scavenged or scraped together from a hundred different sources. Only the tech gleaming from the walls in the form of displays or with the appearance of kiosks here and there, looked polished and new.

Kalina approached one of the battered together stalls and started talking to the woman standing behind the counter. Like Kalina, this woman was Awoken, though her hair was far neater and had apparently been cut according to slide rule. As Minerva moved over after Kalina, she saw that the shop's appearance was deceptive. The slats of scrap wood and metal, it seemed, only formed an enclosed entryway. Where it butted against the wall behind the proprietor, there was a doorway that lead into a much larger and neater space.

Looking more intently at the stall itself, Minerva noticed that the counter, the overhanging frame with its scrap of cloth that formed the 'roof', and the walls all appeared to be hinged.

 _Those…would fold inward_ , she thought as she regarded them intently. _Yes, and there seems to be a handle just_ _there…_

It looked like a pull from behind it would fold the front of the stall in half inwardly, allowing the counter to fall downward and the walls to fold in, like doors shutting. The 'roof' would then fold down over the front of it.

At the end of the day, a single tug would literally close the shopfront and pull it flush with the wall behind it. It was actually quite clever-

"Mini?"

She blinked, and realized Kalina and the shop owner were both looking at her.

"What?"

"She needs to scan you for size," Kalina said. Then when Minerva kept looking at her blankly she gestured. "For your new clothes?"

"Oh. Of course."

She moved over where the shopkeeper directed her, then stood still with her arms out while a scanner was passed over her. Then the shopkeeper passed the beam over her again and this time, as she did so, the canvas and rubber clothes began to unweave and vanish, replaced simultaneously with new garments weaving themselves into place in their stead.

When the beam finished, she was dressed in what felt like thick, sturdy trousers, a far less scratchy tunic type shirt, and a heavy leather vest and belt. So quickly did the transformation take place that the pouch holding her engram had not fallen, and remained clipped to her new belt.

"Comfortable?" the shopkeeper asked. Minerva plucked at her clothes a bit, more in wonder at the process than anything else, then nodded.

The shopkeeper smiled and winked, then turned away and picked up some things on a nearby shelf. "First set is always free," she said, then turned back and draped a long coat over the counter, tossing a set of gloves over it. "These should suit as well."

The coat was a dark and heavy fabric that felt slightly oily on the outside. Min pulled it on and it fell to just below her belt. The gloves were thinner and finer and seemed made of a very similar material to Kalina's cloak- thin and delicate but deceptively warm when she pulled them on. As she was already warm, she pulled them off again, then tucked them into her belt with a grateful nod.

"Good luck in the Crucible," the shopkeeper said as they stepped away from the stall.

"I take it there's currency?" Minerva asked as they walked through the broad room, heading for yet another door and set of stairs.

"There is, but it's not the only means of buying something by far," Kalina told her. "Bartering is big. Don't worry; you'll find plenty out in the field, and scavenged tech is always paid for by the Tower, so you won't have too much to worry about."

Min was seized with a sudden thought, and looked at Kalina. "Those meals we had- were they provided by the Tower too, or did you-"

"Don't worry, I have plenty," Kalina said genially, but despite her friendly smile Minerva immediately looked glum.

Thinking about how much she had eaten she said, "I'll pay you back."

"You'll pay it back the first time you get sent out to pick up a newborn," Kalina told her. "Honestly, Mini- it's all right. Someone paid for my first meals, I paid for yours, and you'll pay for the next poor schlub. It's like the circle of life, but with fewer lions."

Minerva wasn't quite sure what this last bit meant, but she didn't comment on it. She was getting downright used to Kalina making little to no sense.

They moved downward once again, delving deeper into the Tower until Min started to wonder if they were actually underground now. Even here, on what had to be the lowest levels, the sheer bustle of the place had not thinned or ceased. There seemed to be just as many people down here as had been out in the corridor when she'd first ventured out of her room.

Kalina seemed to be getting quieter and quieter the further they went. Almost the moment they'd left the café she'd become more solemn and serious, and Min began to wonder. Was the upbeat energy and playful banter she'd demonstrated before out of character for her, or was this?

 _Or is she really just that bothered by the prospect of this 'Nara' in the Crucible?_ Indeed, it seemed as if her sudden solemnity had come the moment she found out the Twins were down there. What could be so bad about this woman that it brought about this kind of reaction in Kalina?

 _She said she frightened her._ Kalina had been describing what a Guardian was and was meant to do; had been talking about some of the things she and others had faced in the field, and about the monstrousness of some of the alien creatures they were expected to fight without batting an eyelash or showing even the slightest hesitation or note of fear-but she feared this _other_ Guardian? Did that make sense?

Kalina finally lead them out of the stairwell and into a broad floor. Across this floor there was a large alcove. Grand, wide windows covered nearly the entire far end of this alcove, eliminating the idea that they were now underground. The glass of the windows was thick and shimmering with an odd blue hue.

They might not have been underground but they certainly seemed to finally be _on_ the ground, as through the windows Min could see dirt and grass, a torn up landscape that looked threadbare and seemed snarled with ruins.

A cluster of people, four or five, stood in the alcove among a mishmash of cabinets, shelves, and trunks. A broad beaten counter was propped on some boxes. Scattered throughout the shelves and on the counter were various weapons and pieces of armor. Among this hodgepodge stood another robot, and the biggest man Minerva had ever seen.

Shaped like a walking wall, the man stood at least half a foot above Min herself- and from what she'd seen of everyone else they'd passed in the corridors and stairwells, this was no easy feat. He was nearly as broad in the shoulder as he was tall, the thick patches of heavy fur he'd draped on his shoulders only enhancing his apparent width. She could not see his face, as it was covered with a gleaming, one horned helmet. It was impossible to tell if he was human, Awoken, or Exo- or one of the very alien beings Kalina had been describing.

The three others there were far less intimidating. Only one of them looked experienced- a short but wiry man with tightly curled hair and a narrow chin. He, like Kalina, was wearing a cloak, but his was bright white. It stood out even more starkly against the dark gleam of his skin.

The other two were dressed far more simply, like Minerva herself, and looked more uncertain. One was a rather droopy human woman with lank dark hair, the other a young human man with a shaved head. His brows were tightly knit and he seemed to be trying to put on pieces of shoulder armor. The wiry man was helping him. Everyone, save the robot, had a Ghost hovering above his or her shoulder. The one beside the wiry man was blue and covered in what looked like dark hash marks, and the one with the broad monster of a man looked beaten and chipped, almost scarred.

As they neared, the broad man turned and looked at them. "Hunter Kalina _,_ " he greeted in a voice not unlike a low rumble of thunder. "This must be your newborn."

His voice was translated by his Ghost into what sounded like the language that Kalina spoke. Min's Ghost re-translated it in echo into Russian. The effect of the man speaking and then both Ghosts echoing various translations in his voice was a bit disconcerting.

"Lord Shaxx," Kalina said with a pleasant smile. "This is Minerva Anosova."

Expression was impossible to see through his helmet, of course. "Both names," he said, sounding mildly interested but not surprised. It seemed to Minerva that he was measuring her up. "Where was she found?"

"Russia," Kalina said.

"Golden Age?"

"The Collapse, it would seem."

"I'm sensing a trend," Shaxx said thoughtfully, then gestured to the droopy woman. "Rhonda, from Ivodel on Venus, during the Collapse."

The woman nodded slightly, her head bobbing a bit like a bird's. Shaxx then gestured at the shaved and half-armored man. "Found drifting in an ancient junk freighter at the edges of the Reef," he said. "Freighter dates as well from the Collapse. Calls himself Ian."

"I couldn't remember my name," Ian said in a mellow, almost musical voice. He gave a tiny smile, much like Kalina's, and offered his hand to Minerva. "So I picked Ian. Pleased to meet you."

She shook his hand. The wiry haired man helping Ian into his armor flicked his eyes from Min toward Shaxx. "Looks like a Titan."

"I will judge that," Shaxx replied mildly. "Kalina, are you staying?"

"I…" She looked pensively at the windows, her expression for a moment almost hopeful. "I heard the Twins-?"

"There are twelve already in there," Shaxx told her. "Nara and Blayd are among them."

The flicker of hope vanished, but she sighed. "Well, I'm staying anyway, I guess."

"Then you can help your newborn armor up."

He stepped aside to talk to the wiry haired man, and Kalina gestured Min over to the counter and indicated she should remove her coat and put on her gloves. As Min did so, Kalina began to rifle through the offerings, eyeballing the size of the armor pieces against various parts of Min's body. The way her eyes kept flicking to Ian and Rhonda prompted Min to speak.

"Are they unusual?" she asked, draping her coat over the counter.

"It's unusual to have so many newborns at once," Kalina said. "I was expecting you'd be the only one here today. Usually we go a few weeks, if not months, before another is found. Three at a time is a bit out of step. Three humans, too. Strange."

"Shaxx seemed surprised we were all from the Collapse?"

"That's unusual too," Kalina said. "Most of our newborns are from the Golden Age, but not usually from the Collapse itself. It's rare. Not as rare as getting a newborn that _predates_ the Golden Age, but rare."

"Does that happen?" Minerva asked, as Kalina seemed to find a satisfactory chest piece and directed Minerva how to put it on. "Finding someone who's pre-Golden Age?"

"I have not heard of it," her Ghost said before Kalina could reply, distracted as she was with the armor. Kalina shook her head.

"There's two _I've_ heard of," she said. "Don't know for sure if they really were or not or if it's just rumor, but one's supposed to be the Speaker. There. How's that feel?"

Min shifted a bit. Kalina had helped her strap into some chest armor and a couple of arm pieces. They felt a bit heavy but nothing she couldn't handle. Beyond that, she didn't know how to answer, as she didn't know how armor was _supposed_ to feel. It wasn't tight and uncomfortable, at least.

As Kalina rifled through a few more pieces with the robot's help, picking up some promising looking shoulder pads, Minerva said, "Did that other Guardian find both of them?"

Kalina looked over at her, brows raised. "Who, Tychon?" she asked, indicating the wiry haired man who was now helping to strap armor onto Rhonda. "I doubt it. That'd be far too much into the 'unusual happenstance' department for me to handle, I think."

"Then why isn't the one who found her here helping her?" Minerva asked, looking at the other two newborns. "Or the one who found Ian, I suppose?"

"Many reasons. They may have been too busy. They may hate the Crucible. There's nothing to say a Guardian _has_ to stick with a newborn they find, beyond delivering them to the Tower and making sure they get fed and camped down."

Minerva looked at her as Kalina fastened a shoulder pad on and attached it to the chest pad Min was already wearing. "Why are you staying?" she asked.

Kalina's luminescent eyes flicked toward her face a moment, before smile and refocusing on the straps she was fastening. "My, you _are_ full of questions," she said cheerfully. "You know, I'm starting to wonder if you won't end up being a warlock after all. Remembering both names, full of questions, clearly eager to learn-"

"You're evading."

"- using big words," Kalina said, then winked at Minerva. Min felt a slight scowl crease her face and Kalina laughed.

"Never mind, there's the big scary Titan face," she said. She gently gripped the shoulder pad she'd just strapped down. "I'm staying because I want to make sure you're ok," she said. "I'm only four years old, and I can still remember how unsettled and unsure I was when I was brought back to the Tower the first time. The one who found me stayed, and I never forgot how much that helped. Consider it the circle of life thing again. I'm staying because someone stayed for me, and this is the only way I can return the favor. Ok?"

She finished helping Minerva armor up, and almost the moment the last bit was fitted and snapped down, the robot handed her a set of weapons.

"You always get three to start," Kalina said, fastening them to Minerva with their various holsters and indicating each one as she did so. "Pistol, shotgun, sniper. Pretty basic models but decent enough."

"And whichever I use will help them to determine what Class I am?" Minerva asked. Kalina shook her head.

"Don't worry about that, just use what you feel most comfortable with. There are Titans that are crack shots with a sniper, and warlocks who like shotguns. It's not the weapons that will Class you, it's a ton of things. There's no right or wrong Class- it's something intrinsic to you and Shaxx just needs to suss it out. Don't worry, he's never wrong."

"If I could have your attention a moment," Shaxx said. He was now standing between them and the broad windows at the back of the alcove. From this vantage, Min could see they went all the way down to the floor. Outside, among the tangle of sprawling ruins, there were occasional flashes of light. Once or twice, she thought she saw someone moving, but she couldn't be sure.

At Shaxx's voice, the three newborns turned to look at him, and he regarded them in turn.

"You have basic gear, and basic weapons. There are twelve veterans out there who are in their own high end and highly modified gear, carrying weapons that make yours look like spit-guns. You will _not_ win. Do not go out expecting to win. _Winning_ , ladies and gentleman, is not the point for you today. You are going to go out there and you _are_ going to die, painfully and repeatedly. You must experience this pain. You must experience this death. It is vital for you to become accustomed to it, to eliminate the fear that attends both in mortal men and women. This is a forge, out there is a fire, and you _will_ burn in it- but make no mistake. You will come out refined by the experience."

Minerva felt that greasy ball clenching her stomach again and did her best to swallow it down. They had their backs to her, so she could not see if Ian or Rhonda felt the same, but she could not imagine a person who wouldn't.

Shaxx continued. "Follow your guts out there. Follow your instincts. You will be closely observed, your every action and decision monitored and measured. This is vital to determine to which Class you have been born. You may have already secretly decided on a Class, or one you would like to be. Do not behave as you think such a Class might be expected to behave, hoping to get selected for it. It will not work, and you will only do yourself a disservice. You _are_ the Class that you _are_ \- you have been brought back suited intrinsically for it, and you could not change it any more than you can change your species by mere desire. We are here only to discover which Class each of you already _are_ , not to determine where we would _like_ to stick you or where you would _like_ to be. Have I made that clear?"

Minerva nodded, as did the other two. Shaxx put his hands on his hips and nodded as well. "Good. Above all other things remember- today and the next few weeks are all about letting go of only one thing: fear. Confront it. Embrace it. Learn from it, and then learn to let it go. All right. Here we go. May the Light of the Traveler go with you."

He gestured at the windows and the centermost one suddenly slid upward, forming a doorway between the alcove and the outside. The moment it opened Minerva could hear the almost deafening sound of combat. The Veterans were already raging against each other, and likely had been since before Min and Kalina had even arrived.

 _That blue shimmer in the glass must render it completely soundproof_ , she thought. Kalina offered her a helmet and Minerva grabbed it almost reflexively and pulled it on. The sound didn't vanish, but it was moderated down to a tolerable and far less painful level by the helmet. As she awkwardly settled it down, Kalina pulled her own helmet from where it had been hanging on her back under her cloak, and pulled it on, draping her hood over it. She drew a compact, short-barreled rifle from her back as well, then touched a catch on it. Instantly, the barrel extended and a stock and grip swung and latched into place.

Feeling her hands sweating inside the gloves, Minerva pulled the pistol out and looked at it. Kalina reached over and flipped off a switch that had to be the safety, then patted Min's arm and gave an encouraging squeeze, before she started toward the door. The others were also already moving forward.

Min had no idea if she wanted to use the pistol or not- it was merely the first of the three weapons her hand had gone to. That seemed as good a reason as any other to use it, considering she had nothing but the most rudimentary idea how any of them worked, anyway.

She joined the others at the door. Kalina and Tychon had not paused but strode right out into the shadow-spotted sunlight. The three newborns paused at the door, watching them.

Tychon kept going, breaking into a trot and hurrying into the ruins. Kalina followed with a more sedate but long-legged stride. As she neared the ruins she looked back. Once again, it was impossible to tell, but Minerva got the sense that the woman had winked at her, before she too vanished into the ruin.

"They're not staying with us?" Ian asked, his voice tense but steady.

"You are born alone," Rhonda replied evenly, shifting her hands on her rifle a little. "I suppose it fits that we need to die alone."

"Did you forget?" Ian asked, a hint of humor in his tone as his helmet turned toward her. "We all already did that once."

Rhonda regarded him a moment. Min felt the sweat on her palms again, and gripped the pistol a bit tighter and was keenly aware of how much she didn't know how to use it.

 _That's not the point here. You'll learn. Fear. This is about fear._

She was afraid to go across that threshold and into that raging battle. Flashes of fire and light still blazed from every corner of the ruin and occasionally she could hear shouts and grunts of pain as the ground rumbled at a small explosion. Dust and chips of stone flew everywhere, the air itself hazy and stirring the sunlight into a vague caramel color.

Oh yes, she was afraid. She was _terrified_. Walking into that ruin meant that she would die. It wasn't a question of if, but merely of when.

 _But that's the entire point, isn't it?_ she thought. _I'm terrified, but I can't fear my fear._

And she found herself walking forward, striding away from the two still lingering on the threshold and toward that hellish ruin.

Something exploded close by with a heavy _whump!_ that she felt more than heard. Her armor was pelted with rocks and dust and dirt, and she staggered to the side trying to keep her balance. Her heart felt as if it might pound out of her chest, and her breath was narrow and hot in her chest. She hadn't been injured, hadn't been hit. The grenade or explosive or whatever it had been, had hit the wall about a dozen yards to her left and another dozen in front of her. She wasn't hurt.

She didn't dare stop. The moment she regained her balance she kept moving forward. She sensed that the other two were now following her, a dozen feet behind her.

The blast had torn a new hole in the already crumbling wall, one big enough for a person to easily stride through. It was clogged with smoke. Perhaps defiantly, Minerva changed her course a little and walked directly toward it, rather than toward the one that Kalina and Tychon had vanished through.

Even only a few feet away, she could see nothing through it save the lingering smoke and dirt. Instinctively, she turned so that her shoulder was toward the wall, and flanked the side of the hole, her pistol held out in front of her. Nothing stirred in the smoke. The rattles of gunfire were much closer now, but the immediate area seemed clear.

She edged forward, pistol up. Nothing happened. She edged forward a bit more. Nothing.

The other two reached her side, pressing on the wall just behind her. Though she knew they were as green as she was, somehow having others there made her feel a bit more confident. She entered the hole and the thinning cloud of smoke.

Nothing happened. Lowering her pistol a little she turned as she cleared the smoke enough to make out her surroundings. Trying to pick a direction she wanted to go, she thought _I should probably try to get to high ground, if there is any-_

-and found herself face to face with the barrel of a nasty looking rifle. A beaked skull of some kind had been fitted on it, the mouth gaping around the tunnel-sized hole of the muzzle. Beads and feathers dangled in macabre decoration from the skull, and metal seemed to rise behind it in a ridged mimicry of spine. Low green light the color of swamp gas seemed to spill from the eyes of the skull, dripping in thin mist from the abyss of its mouth.

Minerva's eyes shifted from the skull to the one holding the rifle. She could see no face beyond the helmet, and the plate on it was not reflective as Kalina's had been. Instead, it was dark and matte, yet somehow seemed full of the same swirling swamp gas that spilled from the rifle. Dark shadows of black and sickly green shifted in phantom shapes behind that helmet as Min watched. Similar spinal ridges of metal formed a stumpy looking ridge over the helmet.

Less than a tenth of a second had passed from the moment Minerva had turned and saw the skulled weapon and the monster wielding it. The monster spoke, and there was a chuckle in her low, throaty voice.

" _Bye."_

Min had only just started to lift the pistol up again, barely aware of what her arms were doing.

The skull's eyes and mouth lit up with green fire that swelled and bloomed and flared impossibly bright, climaxing in an inferno of pain that blazed endlessly through the whole of reality.


	7. Chapter 7

The dark that had followed the pain melted away into light again, to sensation of body. Min could feel the ground pressed against her left side, feel the way her limbs were splayed. They were trembling uncontrollably. Through broken facets of what looked like glass, she could see her Ghost hovering, a beam of white light pouring down but somehow not blinding her.

"It's all right," he said as he came into focus. "I have you. You're all right."

The 'glass', which she now realized was the front faceplate of her helmet, seemed to flow together back into a solid sheet as the light refocused from her to it. In mere moments it was whole once again. Her arms and legs had stopped shaking but she felt weighted down, weary. She tried to focus.

That macabre rifle, pointed at her face. The implacable helmet behind it, swirling with miasma. That single, cold, amused word- _Bye._

It had happened. She'd been shot by that rifle, right in the face. It had broken her faceplate and killed her, probably instantly.

She'd died, and as promised, her Ghost had brought her back.

Trying to refocus, she shifted and started to push herself up, one hand groping unconsciously for the pistol which still had to be nearby. Her fingers found it just as she realized the veteran Guardian was still there, just to her left. Propping herself up and turning her head, Min saw both Ian and Rhonda, sprawled over the grass. Ian was clearly dead, his Ghost hovering close and mending him with a beam of light, just as Min's had done with her. He was further away than Rhonda, and appeared to have tried to make a run for it.

Rhonda was just a few feet away, moving now as her Ghost finished its' work mending her. The veteran Guardian was standing over Rhonda, pointing her weapon at the disoriented woman's head.

"Welcome back," the Guardian said, and shot Rhonda all but point-blank right in the face again.

Minerva jolted at the sound, horrified at the sight of Rhonda's head coming apart. The rifle belched green flames as it fired, and the sound it made was like the roar of a living beast. Reflexively, Minerva let out a cry of surprise at the shot, and started to turn the pistol toward the veteran, pushing herself up more.

"You too," the veteran said, the rifle shifting its point almost casually back to Minerva. Min hadn't even gotten her pistol to bear when horrible green light was filling her eyes again, bringing with it that instant of unfathomable pain…then black.

 _You fret too much!_ A laugh like bells, golden hair. _You think too much, you know. Always ready for a threat where none exists. It is perfectly…_

The image, the voice, was there and gone again in a hazy blink as Minerva returned to life and consciousness for a second time. Someone was laughing- a low chuckle. Something else was rustling. Sobbing. There was sobbing…

She managed to lift her head, turning her face away from her Ghost before her face plate could be mended again. Perhaps half a dozen feet away, Rhonda was half-crawling, half-dragging herself over the grass. Blood was painting the ground, pouring in a small waterfall from the side of her neck and her shoulder. All Min could see was raw, wet meat and the gushing crimson. Thick and somehow clotted sobs were coming from her as she tried to pull herself along. Her Ghost was hovering nearby, bits spinning in clear alarm and agitation.

"What are you doing, you can't keep-" it said, but the veteran casually walking behind the dragging Rhonda ignored it. Rhonda pulled herself another foot, and that horrible, demonic rifle lifted to aim again.

With a surge, Minerva started to lunge to her feet. She either hadn't dropped the pistol this time or had not noticed when she picked it up again, but somehow it was in her hand. Just as she brought it up to bear again, the dreadful rifle shifted its aim from the wounded Rhonda. Min tried to check her motion and fall to the side but it was too late. A roar and the world wiped away again into oblivion.

 _There hasn't been a war in ages. People don't murder each other anymore. You're not making sense, you silly thing-_

She was on her stomach this time when she woke, the cloying smell of thick blood filling her nose. She was panting heavily, her heart thundering so she felt it must tear out of her chest. A voice whispered near her ear, and she realized her Ghost was hovering close, speaking in a soft and tense voice.

"If you scoot back you might be able to get into cover," he said. "She's focused on Rhonda again. I don't know who this Guardian is but she seems quite mad-"

Min planted her hands and half pushed herself up, lifting her head. About a dozen feet now separated her from Rhonda and the veteran. Ian was down again too but had clearly been up at some point. He now sat slumped against one of the ruined walls as his Ghost healed him, instead of sprawled where he had been.

Rhonda was awake again, on her back. The waterfalling wound in her neck and shoulders had been healed, but a pair of fresh shots had been put into her. This demented veteran, for some reason, seemed determined to play with Rhonda whereas with Minerva she'd only put her down fast with clean shots to the head. This time, she'd shot the other woman in both her legs. As Rhonda weakly tried to move back from her, dragging the useless limbs, the veteran planted the beaked skull-muzzle of her rifle into one of the wounds and twisted it. Rhonda screamed.

"Stop it!" Rhonda's ghost said frantically. "This isn't how you're supposed to-"

Min's Ghost was right. Minerva could have slid backward fairly silently, ducked behind one of the ruined rock walls, and gotten away. It was the sensible thing to do. She didn't think she could stand that painful light, that impenetrable oblivion again.

Instead she curled her legs up, got her feet back under her, and darted forward like a sprinter exploding out of a starting gate.

Hearing her coming on the first footstep, the veteran swung her rifle around again but Minerva had learned that lesson. She didn't straighten up but kept low, barreling in and tackling the veteran around the knees even as that atrocity of a rifle fired again.

The bullet hit her in the lower back in mid-tackle, and she felt the pain again- pain beyond belief, a howling hurricane of it. Her legs went numb and useless, but her momentum and her weight were already doing the job. The veteran went down nearly on top of poor Rhonda. Hearing an unexpected snarl come from her own lips, Minerva reached up, hauling herself on top of the veteran in an attempt to pin her down, even as she groped out for the rifle. If she could _just_ get it away from her…

Of course, it was useless. All the veteran had to do was brace herself and roll. Minerva flipped to the side and tumbled off of her, and the vet easily got back to her feet.

"You're the persistent one," the veteran said, walking toward where Min was trying to get up again despite her useless legs. The mouth of that rifle looked like a tunnel as it turned toward her face again…then jarred aside, as a bullet ripped through the veteran's shoulder, tearing her arm back and away. The rifle went spinning to the side, spitting out its puffs of sickly steam from its mouth as it went. The vet turned toward where the shot had come from, hand reaching for her belt where a small pistol was holstered, just in time for a second bullet to tear through her throat, punching through the reinforced armor joint and bringing a good deal of blood and bone along with it. With a limp, meaty thud the veteran hit the ground in her heavy armor, and lay still.

Min saw opportunity, and quickly hauled herself across the grass to where the rifle had fallen, even as the veteran's Ghost began to bathe it's guardian in light. Snatching hold of the weapon she shifted herself into a half-sit, gritting her teeth. Her lower back was on fire, a clenching white hot ball of molten lead, just above her hips. Below them, there was little to no sensation at all. In her hand, the rifle itself felt somehow… _oily_ , even through her glove, and she could have sworn she felt hatred and malevolence coming from it, as if it were as repulsed at being held by her as she was at holding it.

Ian was moving now, looking around in weary confusion. Rhonda had pulled herself closer to him and was looking at Min with pale, sickened eyes as her Ghost passed its' beam over the wounds in her legs.

The only sound as Kalina stepped past Minerva was the faint rustle of her cloak over the dirt. She had her own rifle in hand. Though she had clearly been the one to shoot the veteran, she hurried past the limp form as if she expected it to reach out and grab her, getting to Rhonda and Ian's side.

"Get up," she said, her words hasty but not ungentle. "Back this way, back into the tower. Come on."

She helped them up, guiding them toward the hole in the wall they had come through before. Both were unsteady, but seemed more than eager to retreat to safety again. Min wasn't sure, but she thought Rhonda looked as if she were crying.

The other two out of the way, Kalina then hurried back toward Minerva. Her Ghost had come over the moment Minerva had gotten hold of the veteran's rifle. As his light passed over her pelvis and abdomen, she could feel the pain dying down and the sensation returning to her legs in a wave of electric tingles.

"Mini, can you walk?" Kalina asked, dropping down at Minerva's side. Seeing that Min was holding the veteran's rifle she reached out and gripped it, hastily pulling it out of Minerva's hands and flinging it aside as if it were a live viper ready to strike. "You don't want to touch that _thing!_ "

As Kalina helped her get to her feet, Minerva saw that the veteran was now stirring, pushing herself up. Without bothering to even look for the pistol she'd lost again, Minerva pulled out the shotgun. Her arm tightened around Kalina and she twisted, pulling her out of any possible fire-path, ignoring the painful twinge in her still healing lower back as she did so. At the same time she lifted the shotgun toward the veteran and fired.

Nothing but a click. It seemed the shotgun had a safety, as well.

The veteran was up now, heading toward them fast. Minerva had no time to find the safety and fire again. Instead, she moved forward, trying to push Kalina to the side as she swung the shotgun high from the shoulder.

The veteran caught it in her hands, and with a quick twist disarmed Minerva. A fist drove in with the smooth, fast power of a bullet, and Minerva's three times repaired faceplate shattered. For a brief moment she saw what looked like small claws or blades on the knuckles of the veteran's gauntlets and then pain was slashing over her nose and cheek. She rocked backward.

The veteran suddenly growled in pain and whipped around, swiping a vicious backhand toward Kalina, who had driven a hunting knife deep into the waist of the armor. The hunter was much too fast, and was well out of reach despite the speed of the blow that came at her. She spun around, down and low, so quick it was almost a blur. The veteran had her legs swept out from under her and hit the ground again with enough force Minerva felt the tremble in the dirt. Stumbling backward, Min gaped at the speed with which the veteran got back up.

Then her comprehension was strained almost to the breaking point. The veteran seemed to give a small hop in the air, cocking a fist back, her entire focus downward as if she meant to break the very ground on which she stood. The fist seemed to be on fire- if flames could be pale blue. Kalina, who had been darting in again, suddenly reversed direction with an alarmed little 'eep!' but for all her speed it wasn't fast enough.

The veteran's fist hit the ground and it was indeed as if she broke the very earth. The ground bowed and cracked, and the air itself rippled out in a shockwave that struck Minerva even as her eyes were starting to comprehend it. It felt like being hit by a truck, and the next thing she knew she was sailing through the air. She struck one of the ruins rock walls and crashed bonelessly to the ground, nearly a hundred feet from where she had been standing. Aching and dazed she peered through a cloud of rock dust and soil, staggering to her feet.

Kalina had been thrown as well, in the opposite direction. She, too, was rising but only slowly, dazedly. Binky was hovering nearby, casting the hunter awash in light. There was blood on the hood of her cloak.

Min's own Ghost hurried near, but Minerva didn't have time for him or his healing. She tore the ruins of her helmet off and pitched it aside. Red seemed to be filling her head and she lifted a hand, brushing the little Ghost aside, shoving the aches and pains into the background as she broke into a run.

Where the veteran had hit the ground a small crater had formed. The vet was now striding out of this crater, toward Kalina. Only a few steps carried the vet to her evil rifle, which she swept up into her hand and ratcheted. Even from this far, that ratchet was audible- an almost purring, eager sound that spoke somehow of bloodlust.

Head down, teeth bared, Min could feel something swirling around her, something filling her up. Energy seemed to be pouring into her with a crackle like white lightning, and the red in her head was instantly replaced with pale blue.

Then a third figure was suddenly striding out of the clouds of smoke and dirt, stepping through the rock wall- a figure big enough to be a wall in his own right, a single horn looming above his helmet. His voice seemed to ring around the ruins, commanding even the very molecules of dust.

" _ **That's ENOUGH."**_

Min stumbled to a halt, both the blue and the red light in her brain snuffing out in an instant. She staggered and nearly lost her balance, the light replaced by a wearying exhaustion that weighed every inch of her. The veteran straightened and lowered that menacing rifle, looking at Lord Shaxx as if they were old friends who were just happening to meet in a pleasant summer park. Beyond them, Kalina had regained her feet and was gingerly removing her helmet. Her face was caked with blood and sweat, but her wounds seemed well enough healed.

Minerva had no doubt as to why the Crucible Lord had put in an appearance. _He'll put a stop to this_ , she thought triumphantly. _He'll put a stop to this madwoman and her sadistic slaughter. He'll expose what she did in front of everyone, and serve her right!_

Around them, the other sounds of combat had all died. Armed and armored figures were appearing from out of the ruins now, weapons casually in hand or swung over shoulders, silently gathering around in curiosity as to why the Crucible Lord had called a halt.

Minerva knew, and her glare toward the veteran was filled with that knowing.

To her shock, however, Shaxx barely glanced at the vet and instead seemed to fix his sights on Kalina, his voice stone and ice.

"You're _done_ in the Crucible, Kalina. Go report to your Vanguard right now, and don't ever darken my doorstep again."


	8. Chapter 8

It took Minerva a moment to realize what Shaxx had said, her eyelashes fluttering a time or two as she struggled to parse it. Kalina had straightened and lifted her chin proudly a moment, but she did not look at the Crucible master, nor toward the others. Her helmet under her arm and Ghost following silently, she strode toward the hole in the wall and disappeared into the smoke.

"Why?" Min heard herself say, and suddenly every helmet was turned toward her. In the group of gathered Guardians, one or two leaned toward their compatriots and murmured to each other.

"Minerva, I will speak with you inside. Return to the Tower," Shaxx said. Minerva didn't move, save to point at the veteran.

" _She_ …you _had_ to see what she was doing," she said. "Why-?"

"Minerva, inside please," Shaxx said. The volume of his voice didn't change but his tone brooked no argument. Looking back toward the others he added, "The rest of you will resume in three minutes."

Slowly the gathered group began to break apart, heading back deeper into the ruins. A few lingered, and their helmets tracked Min as she stalked past Shaxx and headed toward the rent in the wall. She didn't even bother to find or pick up her helmet, nor locate the pistol and shotgun that had been cast aside in the fight.

She walked across the torn up landscape toward the glass door they had passed through to get to the ruins, too distracted to even look up at the Tower or more of her surroundings. Why had Lord Shaxx banned Kalina from the Crucible? Was the sadism of the veteran what was _expected_ of Guardians? If so, then her Ghost had found the wrong person to revive; she wasn't going to have a hand in that kind of cruelty, now or _ever_.

She may have no memory of her life or the kind of person she had been before she'd woken up on that frozen highway, but whoever that person might have been it was who she was _now_ that mattered. And if being alive meant one day she'd be torturing newborns and laughing while she did so then she had no desire to _be_ alive one moment longer.

Stepping back inside, she saw no sign of Kalina. Both Ian and Rhonda were near the counter where they had procured their armor and weapons. The former was just standing there with a somewhat shell-shocked look on his face. Rhonda was sitting on the floor with her back to the counter, hands covering her face and audibly weeping.

Minerva started toward them, but barely had she shifted her trajectory when Shaxx seemed to materialize right behind her.

" _I_ will speak to them. Wait for me over there."

He pointed across the atrium and without waiting to see if she'd bother to comply, headed toward the others.

Turning on her heel, jaw clenched so tightly it felt as if her teeth would crack, she went to the other side of the atrium. Folding her arms, she glared out the windows where the silent flashes of light and blasts of dust had resumed in the ruins. The Guardians were battling again. Among them was most likely the veteran, continuing on as if nothing had happened…as if she'd done nothing wrong.

Min didn't know how long she stood there, her Ghost hovering silently at her shoulder. He seemed to be at a loss of what to say. The soft displacement of air as he turned drew her attention and she looked over her shoulder. Lord Shaxx was approaching her, and behind him there was now no sign of Ian or Rhonda.

He said nothing at first, only drew up beside her and faced the windows as well. His helmet was as smooth as a mirror, and looked as solid as steel. There was no hint of the face beyond it.

"Normally, it takes a Guardian two or three times passing through those doors and into the Crucible before I am sure to which Class they belong," he said at last. "One in a hundred show their colors immediately. You are that one. You're a Titan, Minerva. There is no question. I suspect that is no surprise."

She wasn't really concerned with his 'official' declaration of her Class. Hell, Kalina had picked up on that immediately, and right now it seemed the least important thing in the universe.

"Ian and Rhonda?" she asked.

"I sent them back into the Crucible," he said.

" _What?_ Back in with that _monster?_ Sir, I'm sorry, but that woman is crazy! Did you see what she was doing? She-"

He finally looked at her. Or rather, his helmet turned toward her.

"Tell me something, Minerva," he said, calmly. "Indulge me if you will."

"I…what?"

"You know what has happened, yes? Humanity is all but extinct, Traveler broken, and all that stands between the Darkness and the extinction of everything are the Guardians."

"I know, but that doesn't excuse-"

"You have no idea what is out there, Guardian. You haven't seen it yet. There are abominations. You call her a 'monster'- no. There are _real_ monsters out there, and someday very soon you are going to have to go out and face them. Rhonda is going to have to go out and face them. Do you think they'll wait politely for the Ghosts to heal you after they've killed you? Give you time to orient yourself? To process what happened? That they'll give you a head start before nobly starting the battle again? No. Out there, if you are killed and your Ghost manages to revive you, it may be the instant before a Fallen or a Hive tear you apart again…you, or your Ghost, or the people under your protection. They _know_ the Ghosts revive us. The moment you are awake again you may need to react in a split second, before your mind has even cleared. That is why we do this, Minerva. That is why the Crucible exists. It's about fear, hesitation. In the field you _cannot_ hesitate, not because of pain, or injury, or fear. Not even because of death. You need to conquer pain, fear, and death _before_ we send you out into the field."

She could feel her jaw flexing and forced herself to speak as calmly as he did. "You banned Kalina from the Crucible for helping us, for stopping that…that _woman._ Is that a 'lesson' too? Are we to abandon our fellow guardians out there as well, everyone for themselves?"

If he said 'yes', if even the hint of the word 'yes' reached her she was done. If that's what Guardians were about then she wanted _no_ part of it.

"Of course not," he said instead. "I did not ban her from the Crucible because she helped you and took down your enemy. If that is what you believe then it is no wonder you are angry."

"Then _why?_ "

"Because she sent Rhonda and Ian back to the Tower," he told her. "They were out there for the same reason as you were- to face fear, and more importantly- to _defeat_ it. By sending them back to the Tower she instead reinforced their fear, fed it, and made it grow. What we do in the Crucible is very touchy, Minerva. It is carefully designed to help you and those like you conquer both yourself, and that which will not only get you killed but others as well. What Kalina did by sending them back may be seen as a kindness, but it was no favor. They will now have to endure even more of the Crucible than they would have had before, and at this moment they are further from conquering their fear than they were the first time they walked in that door. I suspect in Rhonda's case she did permanent harm. She may never become ready to go into the field now, which robs the Tower of yet another Guardian between the City and what seeks to annihilate us all."

Minerva shook her head. "I don't…I can't agree. Not when it comes to Kalina."

"And why is that?" he asked patiently.

She was silent a long moment before she said, "That woman was _laughing._ "

He was silent just as long, then he said, "I understand. For now, as a Titan you will be reporting to Zavala."

That was it. Minerva might have only been born a few days ago but she knew a dismissal when she heard it. Knowing it would do no good to speak again, she turned and walked away, back toward the lift where she and Kalina had arrived what felt like years ago now.

His 'I understand' was so carefully schooled she had no idea what he meant by it. Had he been unaware that the veteran had clearly been _enjoying_ Rhonda's torture? Did he mean to address it? Or was it that he simply was acknowledging Minerva's concern, but neither shared it nor intended to do anything about it?

Was there even anything he _could_ do about it?

For that matter…

"Ghost," she said as the lift doors shut. The silent oculus floating at her shoulder turned toward her. "Would the Traveler ever send one of your kind out to revive someone who was mentally unbalanced?"

"I…don't know," he said after a thoughtful pause. "I would like to think not, but when you consider what it is Guardians do…perhaps it takes the 'mentally unbalanced' to be able to cope with it all? Though if you are referring to that Guardian back in the Crucible- no. No, I can't help but think there was something really _wrong_ with her."

"Me too. And…"

 _And there was something wrong with her_ rifle _._

She just stopped herself from saying it. Even thinking it sounded nuts to her; saying it out loud would only be even more ridiculous. That weapon was just designed to _look_ menacing, and it was that menacing look that caused her to apply 'feeling' to it. Of course rifles couldn't be repulsed. Of course they had no mind or will of their own. They were just tools, objects- they weren't alive.

Trying to turn her thoughts away from it, she realized she had no honest idea where she was going. She'd been told to report to Zavala but she had no idea who that was or where they might be found. Kalina had told her that she'd probably spend several days doing nothing but eating, sleeping, and Crucible, but Min didn't know if that remained true anymore. Shaxx hadn't sent her back in, and she had no idea if he intended to or not. If the Crucible was designed to help them conquer their fears and eliminate hesitation before going into the field, it both seemed and felt unrealistic that she was already done with it. None of her fears felt conquered. Just thinking about that pain and the slamming, impenetrable black again was enough to make her nauseous- and that wasn't even taking into consideration the rest of her fears and concerns. Even having experienced death several times now she had no desire to do it again- so much for overriding the survival instinct.

With no direction she decided merely to return to the same floor that she'd woken up on. From there she'd see if she could find anyone who knew where this Zavala was and how to find them.

As the lift halted and the doors opened, however, a set of open arms greeted her. She stood in stunned stupefaction for a moment as the Exo from the café- Cayde was it?- beamed at her as if he were greeting a long-lost family member.

"There you are! Looking all rugged and stunning from the Crucible. I think I can still smell the napalm."

His hands clapped down on her arms and he gave her a slight shake, then stepped back. "Come on, let's get you sorted."

Following him as he started away she said, "I'm sorry, I'm a Titan."

"Well, we can't all be perfect, but you should never apologize for the misfortunes thrust upon you," he said, without missing a stride.

"I thought you were the _Hunter_ Vanguard?"

"Oh I am," he said, then looked askance at her. "Which means Kalina is my concern. I hear there was a bit of a kerfuffle down in the Crucible. When one of my Hunters gets a lifetime ban from Lord Shaxx I tend to pay attention."

"You want to know what happened."

He made a sound as if she had literally wounded him. "Ah, ya got me."

"Didn't you ask Kalina?"

"She was disinclined to chat."

"Could you talk to Lord Shaxx?"

"I _could_ ," he said, then gave a theatrical shudder. "But why?"

She stared at him. He glanced at her, and after a moment prodded, "So…what happened?"

She told him about the veteran, and what she'd been doing, and how Shaxx had finally put a stop to it only to ban Kalina from the field. Cayde listened quietly and when she'd finished he nodded.

"Yeah…that'd be Nara."

"Nara?" the name rang a bell, but it took a moment before she remembered. "That's one of the Twins isn't it? The one that Kalina doesn't like?"

"Yeah, and you've probably figured out why."

"Sir, I'm sorry, but that woman was unstable. I don't know if Shaxx understands that or even cares-"

"Oh, I'm sure he both understands _and_ cares," Cayde told her. "The thing is, Nara…well, Nara is a special case."

"A _special_ case?"

"Yeah, and it's not my place to tell you the details- so of course I will. The Twins are two of the best Titans we have…two of the best Guardians, honestly. A few years back there was a large fire team that attempted to take back the Moon from the Hive. First Guardians- hell, the first human beings- who'd set foot on the Moon since the Golden Age. Well, it went bad. _Really_ bad. At least, we think so. Interrupted transmissions, some incredibly disturbing…then total silence. The Twins decided to go in and see if they could find them, or find out what happened to them. We lost coms with them, as well. Six days later, their ship limps back to the Tower and Blayd is practically dragging her sister, both half dead."

"Half dead?" she blinked. "How is that even possible? Were their Ghosts destroyed?"

"No, their Ghosts were all right. They weren't wounded, not physically."

"Then I don't understand how they were-"

"Yeah, welcome to the club," he said, looking at her. " _No one_ understands it. No one knows what happened up there, not to them or to the original fire team- which by the way remains vanished without a trace. Blayd claims not to remember anything helpful. The Ghosts claim not to remember anything either. They were extensively debriefed and examined, and I for one am inclined to believe them."

"Them…but not Nara?"

"She's never said differently, and she refuses to speak about it, but…" He shrugged. "The Guardian that came back from that mission was not the same Guardian that left on it. Personally, I think Nara remembers everything."

"You think that's why she's-"

He nodded.

Her brows knotted and she looked at the dull concrete floor as it swept past under their boots. "You can't be the only one who thinks that."

"I'm not," he said.

"And they still let her fight? They still let her do…what she did? Whatever happened to her…if she's mentally damaged then she's a danger-"

"Yeah, she is," he said, a bitter laugh in his voice. "And that's exactly why she's still in the field. Her sister seems to be able to temper and channel her, and when she's in the Tower Nara has never so much as littered. She's not breaking any rules, and when she's out in the field, she's a juggernaut. So long as the danger she poses is aimed at the threat against the Tower and the City they'll keep right on pointing her at them."

"It just seems wrong," she said with a scowl. "At the very least, she needs _help_ -"

"Oh I know," he said. "So does Zavala, and Ikora. Her… _condition_ is not being ignored. We're doing our best to figure out what happened and to help her but it's slow work."

"And her sister? Is Blayd…?"

"Oh, Blayd's normal. A bit quieter than she used to be but otherwise her old self." He stopped walking and she realized they were outside an arched doorway. They could hear voices inside and from the echoing sounds, the space past it was a decent size. "Well, here you are. Zavala's inside. Big, bald, blue, you can't miss him. I'm going to see if I can't track down Kalina."

She didn't make an immediate move toward the arch. "Will she be ok?"

"Oh, yeah, she'll be fine," he said. "She wasn't a big fan of the Crucible anyway, I doubt she'll shed too many tears over being banned."

"If he banned her for sending Rhonda and Ian back to the Tower to protect them from Nara, I'm surprised it hasn't happened before now," she said. "I mean, she's had to have done that before, right? Saved newborns from Nara torturing them?"

"Oh, no. She tends to avoid the Crucible altogether if the Twins are even rumored to be inside," he said.

"Then why didn't she stay away today then?"

"I don't know, she's weird. She must like you," he said. "Don't keep Zavala waiting."

He started to turn to go when the sound of running footsteps approaching the archway, several of them, reached their ears. A moment later a dozen figures appeared through it, led by another walking wall (big, blue, bald…must be Zavala, she thought) and a petite human woman with dark skin and close cropped hair.

"What's going on?" Cayde said, immediately falling in with the group, none of which had slowed their stride. Not wanting to just remain standing there like a baffled idiot, Minerva could think of nothing else to do but follow along as well.

"Patrol's been tracking an incoming ship," the woman said. She had a soft and subtle accent that Minerva could not place. Her Ghost captured it in his Russian translation perfectly. "Came from the Moon. It's Hive."

"A Hive ship? And we didn't shoot it down?"

"It's transmitting Guardian codes," Zavala said. His voice was deep, but not as deep as Minerva imagined it would be before she heard it. "Not mimicked or stolen, the encryption is directly from a Ghost, verified by our own."

"One of our people landed on the Moon and stole a Hive ship?"

"Yes, but apparently there are about five years between those two events."

"Wait, what? Are you saying-"

"The codes belong to one of the Vanished," Zavala said. They topped a short stairwell and Minerva suddenly recognized where they were. Doors slid open and they were rushing out onto the same landing deck where she and Kalina had arrived that very first day. A crowd of mechanics and robots were clustering near one of the gantries where a ship every bit as vile and ugly as the rifle Nara had been using floated anchored. It was beaten and scorched and though no fluid seemed readily apparent, Min had the distinct impression it was _bleeding_.

"Clear out, back up," Zavala said, and the crowd moved and thinned, parting to allow the group forward.

A human woman, pale and blonde and peppered with freckles, was standing and staring at the ship with narrowed eyes. In her hand she held a spanner the size of a small club. She only half glanced at them as they approached, slowing as they took in the ship.

"I don't like this thing on my gantry," she said. "It stinks."

"Has anyone-" Zavala began, but was interrupted by an AI standing at a nearby console.

"We have transmat signature," it said.

Dancing motes of light swept out of nowhere and formed into a figure already in motion. As it solidified it stumbled and nearly fell.

There were gasps around Min, from the crowd. The freckled woman took a step back, her dirty hand tightening on her spanner. The only ones that seemed not to move at all were the three Vanguard.

The figure recovered from its stumble and continued forward. It was hunched as if in pain, limping and weaving. Pale skin holding a faint hint of corpse gray was visible only on the lower face and hands. Everything else was shrouded in tattered dark clothes, the soil-grimed remains of what looked like a Hunter's cloak. A strip of this filthy material had been tied over the face- over the _eyes_ , and thick black streams of some kind of smoke or liquid poured from it like tears.

Those eyes. Those _eyes_. They were hidden behind the blindfold but they were still visible, glowing a bright but sickly green like fairy lights, like will o' wisps deep in the shadows of a swamp.

There were t _hree_ of them.

The woman with the dark skin and the short hair reached a hand toward the figure as it stumbled forward, but Zavala gave a 'wait' gesture. The figure kept on two steps, three, did not even look at them or the gathering crowd. Those three ghastly eyes were fixed on Minerva.

It stumbled again and Minerva's body did two things instinctively. The first was to reach out and catch hold of the creature's arms to stop it from falling. The second was to simultaneously lean back away from the thing as if it were a leper, writhing with contagion.

Holding the arms felt like holding heated wires, corded and wrapped in cloth, and filthy fingers scrabbled at her forearms a bit before they clamped hold and dug in. Knees went weak, but Minerva kept the creature upright.

Then it spoke.

Then _she_ spoke.

"Their voices, screaming in the dark," she said. Her voice was deep, mournful, yet heated with a passion. Her broken fingernails were digging into the pads still on Minerva's forearms, hard enough the ragged ends began to bleed. Then, the corded arms beneath Minerva's hands loosened and as the tattered thing collapsed forward into her arms and into unconsciousness it gasped.

" _You silenced them…"_


	9. Chapter 9

Minerva fumbled with the sudden dead-weight in her arms. The weight itself was negligible, but a sudden war was being fought within Min's own reflexes. She wanted to recoil and drop the thing as she might a snake that had turned in her hand to bite her, and her very skin seemed to be crawling back from it in a similar, visceral reaction. At the same time, she recognized that this creature was suffering- _had_ suffered a great deal. She felt an odd pity and compassion toward it and didn't want to cause it more pain by dropping it.

Whatever this thing- no, this _woman_ \- had been through, Minerva was certain it was a nightmare of the kind that she herself would never be able to endure. She didn't know how she knew it, and perhaps it wasn't true, but there it was.

"We need to get her isolated and to medical attention," said the woman with the neat, short hair. Without hesitation or seeming repulsion, she helped lift the creature into Minerva's arms. Min noted with dull and somewhat shameful resentment that she didn't actually take her _from_ Minerva, though she appeared quite capable of doing so if she had desired.

"Get this ship quarantined and inspected," Zavala said to the blond woman wielding the spanner. When she grimaced he said, "Use your droids, you don't have to board it yourself."

"I'd rather shoot it into the sun," the woman said in a mumble. She snapped her fingers and a pair of rather crude and rough looking synths came toward her.

Min was now holding the unconscious woman in her arms like one would a sleeping child. The smell hit her then, and it wasn't the body odor of someone who hadn't been able to bathe or shower in a long time. It was a layered odor that seemed a mix of old and well-dried mildew with a cinnamon, almost powdery sweet-rot smell beneath it.

 _She smells like a mummified corpse._

The woman with the neat hair touched Minerva's elbow with authority, turning her and drawing her along with nothing more than that touch, leading the way to the door of the hanger. With a moment's pause of seeming reluctance, Cayde followed them.

"Hell of a first day," he said to Minerva. "It's not far. She still breathing?"

"I think so," Minerva replied. It was hard to tell for certain but she thought she could feel the faint tidal motions of expanding ribs against her stomach and chest.

"Which one is she?" the woman with the neat hair asked. Min glanced at her blankly, then realized she hadn't been the target of the question.

"Eris Morn…I think," Cayde said hesitantly. "It's hard to tell. What have the Hive done to her?"

"Dark work," the woman said dismally. Cayde glanced at her.

"Ikora, I do love how you state the obvious," he said cheerfully. She gave him a baleful look in return.

They arrived at their destination quickly. Passing through a battered steel door they were met so swiftly by an Awoken man that he seemed to materialize beside them. He said no word, only gestured them through what looked like a small and mostly disused infirmary-

 _What use would most Guardians have for an infirmary?_ Min realized. _Their Ghosts already handle that work._

-and to another door at the far end. This seemed to be a private room, but the thickness and general 'keep away' ness of the door suggested it moonlighted as a prison cell.

The doctor pulled what looked like a padded bench away from one wall and 'floated' it to the middle of the small room. Apparently it had some sort of anti-gravity properties. Min didn't waste time wondering about it- there was artificial life and digital transference and space ships for God's sake; a floating bench seemed mundane after all that. Instead, she hurried over and laid her burden down upon it, resisting a shudder of relief to have the unconscious woman out of her arms.

The doctor seemed just as reluctant to touch her, peering down at her through squinting eyes with his lips tight and his hands hovering uncertainly.

"She is…a Guardian?" he asked, half glancing at the woman who had been called Ikora.

"She is. One who has been missing for five years."

"Where's her Ghost?"

Cayde and Ikora exchanged a look. "Didn't that signal come through from a Ghost? She has to have had it with her," Cayde said. Ikora, who seemed less loathe to touch the patient than everyone else, examined her a moment.

"I believe her tag is gone. Perhaps the Ghost is still aboard the ship?"

"Holliday is having her droids go over every inch of that ship," Zavala said, suddenly darkening the small doorway. Behind him a cluster of three or four looky-loos seemed to have followed him from the flight deck. "If the Ghost is there they will find it."

The doctor, looking frustrated and still repulsed, brought out long and thin device, and began to pass it over the woman. Data and information that Min could not read began to splash itself over the walls.

"I am not entirely sure _how_ she is injured- it is possible she is merely exhausted, dehydrated…malnourished? It's going to take time-"

"Any pathogens or sign of disease?" Zavala asked.

"Because black misty weird pouring out of her eyes- her _three_ eyes, by the way- clearly isn't a sign of anything," Cayde said. Zavala ignored him.

"I don't know. I don't think so…" the doctor said, then impatiently waved at them. "I'll find and treat what I can."

"Keep her in here until we're certain she's not a threat," Zavala told him. "When she wakes up call us."

He gestured at Minerva to follow him, then stepped back out of the doorway. Min, Ikora, and Cayde quickly exited the small cell-room. With an impatient glare, Zavala dismissed those few folk who had wandered into the infirmary after them. They hurried out, whispering to each other.

Zavala, however, did not leave after them. Nearly to the door he turned and regarded the other two Vanguard seriously, ignoring Min.

"Thoughts?"

"Oh, I have a _lot_ of thoughts," Cayde said. "Most disturbing."

"The Hive have clearly done something to her," Ikora said in a low voice. "Torture, or experimentation. If she is infected with anything, it's the essence of the Hive; part of their odd Darkness. It may have consumed her Light."

"If they've made her part of the Darkness then she is no longer a Guardian," Zavala said. "She's a Thrall, and a threat."

"Hang on there," Cayde said, suddenly defensive. "We've never seen a Thrall- hell, we've never seen _anything_ \- that looks like _that_. She escaped-"

"Or was sent-" Zavala began.

"She _escaped_ until we have proof otherwise," Cayde said. "C'mon, Zavala. If we devolve to 'guilty until proven innocent' we're no better than the Fallen. She went up to the Moon in service to the City, the Traveler, and to the Guardians. Who knows what happened to her up there, what she's been through or what she's seen. Now, against all odds, she's finally managed to get home. What kind of welcome do you want to give her? What kind of message do you want to send other Guardians?"

"Cayde is right," Ikora said. "We can make no assumptions now. Precautions until we can be sure she's not corrupted by the Hive to be one of them. Think of Nara."

Min scowled silently at that. Until that moment the Vanguard had been talking as if she weren't there, but for some reason the moment she scowled their eyes were upon her as if she'd shouted in their faces.

"Thoughts, Guardian?" Zavala asked. Min stared in surprise a moment at the sudden reaction.

"You want _my_ thoughts?" she asked.

"They're as valuable as anyone's," Ikora said. "Perhaps more. Eris saw none of us; it was as if we were not even present. She walked to _you_. She spoke to _you_. I wonder why that is? You have had no interaction with Eris? Did you know her before she left for the Moon?"

"Nah, Min's a newborn," Cayde said. "Had her first Crucible today. It's just not possible."

"That makes it even more intriguing," Ikora said, looking at Minerva with a renewed scrutiny.

"From what I hear there are more than a few things intriguing about you," Zavala now said to Min, folding his arms. Then his eyes moved up to the little bot hovering and translating over her shoulder. "Ghost, you are one of the Wanderers are you not? You were searching for your Guardian for a long time; longer than is usual."

The Ghost drifted back a hair, seeming surprised at being addressed. "Y-yes."

"How long until you found her?" Ikora asked.

"Six years."

The three exchanged unreadable looks.

"And Cayde tells me that you remembered your full name," Zavala said, now looking at Min again. "First _and_ last."

Min said nothing. It was more a statement, not a question that needed response. None of them seemed interested in waiting for a response anyway.

"That's usually the hallmark of a Warlock," Ikora said.

"It's happened with others before," Cayde told her.

"True, but it is incredibly rare. However, she's _not_ a Warlock-"

"No. Yet a third oddity about our new Guardian," Zavala said. "She was identified almost immediately by the Hunter who found her as a Titan- an identity that was verified in her very first Crucible match just hours ago by Lord Shaxx himself. He is never mistaken."

"These could merely be coincidences," Ikora said, with the air of someone trying to calm down hysteria or adulation. It seemed out of place, because Zavala and even Cayde had been speaking very calmly and matter-of-factly. "We cannot read too much into them."

"It's a lot of coincidence," Cayde said, rubbing his chin, then making a dismissive gesture. "But you're right. Even if it's not, we have no idea what any of it might mean."

Zavala nodded. "We can't be fanciful. Though I am curious. Minerva, this is far outside of protocol, but with your permission I am going to have your past looked into. With a first and a last name, and with the location that you were found, we may be able to identify who you were before you died and were chosen by your Ghost."

Min wasn't sure how to respond to that. From what she understood this was very unusual indeed-Guardians were encouraged to only worry about who they were _now_ ; who and what they were before was irrelevant and would only possibly cause stress and grief if it were known. Even if she couldn't remember anything, how would she feel if they discovered she was a mass-murderer? Or had family, friends, children…all of whom would be centuries dead? Hearing of their fate, knowing they were once important to her but being unable to remember them- how would that feel?

Even worse still, what if learning of them made her remember them? That would be even more exquisitely torturous.

Correctly reading her pause, Ikora said, "It is a very slim chance, Minerva. Next to impossible. I doubt any fruit will be born from it, but I agree with Zavala. Right now, any information we can glean might be helpful. There may be nothing at all to this- in fact, there probably isn't. However we can afford to overlook nothing."

"Hell, we don't even have to tell her, do we?" Cayde said. "If she doesn't want to know, but we manage to find the information, why tell her?"

"It is all her choice," Zavala replied. "Minerva, I mean that. It is your choice if you want us to look, and it is your choice if we do as to whether you want to know the information we find. What say you?"

Minerva looked at her Ghost and suddenly wished Kalina were there. She didn't think the Hunter would have any advice or further insight, but just having someone she knew a bit better there with her, she felt might have helped.

"I don't know that woman in there," she said at last, her words thoughtful and as careful as she could make them. "I don't know why she came to me or talked to me. I don't know anything of what's going on. I don't know why I remembered my full name or why my Ghost looked so long, or what any of it means. I'm still trying to make sense of what _anything_ here means-what my life and purpose now actually means. I just don't know enough to say you should look, but I don't know enough to say you shouldn't- so…I suppose if you think it might be helpful at all, you should probably look. If you do end up finding anything…I guess I'll make a decision then as to whether or not I want to know it."

"Fair," Ikora said approvingly. "And wise. Zavala?"

"Agreed. In the meantime it's business as usual, until we learn more from Morn and what happened to her. I'll speak with the Twins- they deserve to know we found one of the Vanished, at any rate. Minerva, come with me please. I will speak with the two of you again later."

Minerva followed Zavala out of the infirmary and into the wide corridor. It was similar to the corridor in which she'd met Kalina that morning, but the sunlight wasn't streaming in the windows in broad, bright, morning beams. Pale blue shadows filled them now, and the light that could be seen had the well-set quality of an early overcast afternoon. Robbed of their basking spots, there were fewer cats to be seen, but they weren't completely absent.

As they moved down the corridor and away from the infirmary, Zavala looked at her. Tall as Minerva was, the Awoken man was a good head taller again. It seemed Min was actually a dwarf among Titans, if he and Shaxx were any indication of the norm.

"Minerva, I know that Shaxx has already declared you a Titan, however there is much to do before you will be field ready. I'm sure you already suspected that this morning cannot be your only time spent in the Crucible."

"I did," she said.

"Good. You will still be spending the majority of your time down there. We do not and will not send a Guardian into the field that we feel is not adequately prepared for it. There is much work to be done to get you to that point. I'm curious to see how you performed. Lord Shaxx should be sending me a recording later this afternoon."

Min looked at the man. "A recording?"

"All Crucible bouts are recorded," Zavala said. "You will have full access to any recording of any Crucible bout, whether you were involved or not. It is an excellent way to help improve your own combat skills. Guardians can analyze not only their own strengths and weaknesses but also those of their compatriots. Once analyzed you can work on eliminating the weaknesses and enhancing the strengths, and learn new techniques or how to adapt to new strategies."

She realized then that Zavala didn't know what had happened that morning in the Crucible, and then wondered why she thought he would have. Cayde had known- but only because Kalina had told him. She supposed Zavala better hear it from her, since he was going to find out any way.

"Sir, I should probably tell you what happened this morning."

He looked askance at her. "What happened?"

Trying to remain as matter-of-fact as the three Vanguard had just moments ago, she quickly related the experience of the Crucible; the way Nara had behaved, the way Kalina had intervened and her subsequent banishment; what Shaxx had told her afterward in the atrium.

He listened closely, but his expression didn't as much as flicker throughout. When she finished he said, "You have concerns about Nara."

"I do," she said.

"Good. So do I. However, what Lord Shaxx told you is correct. Nara is a juggernaut in the field and has not comported herself inappropriately when out of it. In the Tower and the City there are three kinds of people, Minerva. Those who are Guardians, those who have been Guardians, such as myself and the others of the Vanguard; and those that rely on the Guardians for their very survival. The latter two groups are very careful when it comes to the Guardians themselves. We respect not only what they do, but what they go through. They are fighting a Darkness and horrors out in the field that few who have not experienced it directly can understand. That affords them respect and every consideration we can manage when they are home. Nara is a well-respected Guardian, and she has done much to keep the safety of this City and the Traveler. Whatever happened to her, whatever may be happening to her, we cannot and will not forget that. However that does not mean we will be foolish. She is closely watched, as Eris Morn will be if she proves she is not a threat or a plant. If it comes to it we will do whatever we must to protect the security of this Tower and this City- even if the threat to it comes from within. Do you understand?"

For some reason, Zavala saying it made her feel better than she had when Shaxx had said it. Perhaps it was due to no other reason than she could see Zavala's face, instead of an implacable helmet. Regardless, Minerva had little choice but to nod. Like it or not this was the situation as it was, and she had to trust they knew far more about it than she did. These men and women had been dealing with this world and its horrifying situation far longer than she had and understood it in ways that it would take her years to accomplish. She could either trust them or…

… _or what? Leave? What option was that?_

"I trust that, despite your concerns regarding Nara, you can comport yourself in her company with decorum? We are on our way to speak with the Twins now."

She blinked. He had mentioned informing the Twins about that creature in the infirmary, but she had not realized he intended to do so _right now_ , with her along for the ride.

 _What would he do if I said no?_ she wondered. His tone had been non-optional; he wasn't really asking her if she could, he was telling her that she simply _would_ \- that she was expected to behave like a Guardian, even if she was not yet fully cognizant of what that truly meant.

It didn't matter, she supposed. In truth the answer was of course that she would behave herself. She had no desire to go toe to toe with another Guardian- at least, not outside the Crucible where it was expected. Pissing contests held no interest to her, not even against Nara. She had no desire to be the woman's bosom buddy, but cordial…she _could_ do cordial if she had too.

 _Just so long as Nara can do the same._


	10. Chapter 10

They rode the lift back down to the bottom floor of the tower, returning to the Crucible lobby. The battle had apparently ended and been called for the day, as the lobby was crowded with Guardians. Some were still coming in off the field or trickling to the lift, but others were gathered into knots, chatting as companionably and casually as commuters waiting for a train to arrive after work, intent on going to their favorite pub.

For the briefest of moments, Minerva could smell a hint of beer, see the image of a dark wood and gilded archway, the glint of sunlight off of iron wrought windows. Then it was gone again, just as quickly.

A memory? She didn't know. It had no emotional context, no association. It was like being shown a single photograph so briefly her eyes couldn't quite catch it. Only an impression remained.

Lord Shaxx appeared out of the crowd almost as if he had formed from various pieces of it, heading in their direction. As he greeted Zavala and the two spoke in low tones, Minerva continued to look around at the other gathered guardians, more and more of whom were glancing their direction.

Some wore helmets, but others had already removed them. She saw a variety of faces; human, Exo, Awoken, male and female and androgynous. Those that wore cloaks were easily identified as Hunters, and given the general size and breadth of the ones wearing strips of cloth at their waists or belts she guessed those were the Titans. The strips of cloth varied as much as the Hunter's cloaks seemed to: some were ragged and almost looked like torn bandage, others were woven with intricate colors and elaborate designs. Some were only a few inches in length or width, others could almost have been termed half-skirts that draped nearly to the knees.

That left the Warlocks. By process of elimination they had to be the ones wearing arm-bands. Like the cloaks and those cloth strips, these arm-bands varied widely in quality and intricacy. Some even seemed holographic, which made her blink in fascination.

Their armor- _all_ their armor- seemed just as eclectic. There were hundreds of designs, from gleaming to battered, from intimidating to supple, functional to outright bizarre. Just as many Ghosts hovered like a low flock of birds over the crowds, and dozens of languages followed by dozens of various translations filled the air in a low rumble.

Zavala stepped away from Shaxx having concluded their conversation. The motion drew her attention and she followed as he started toward the crowd, most of which were now looking at them curiously. They stepped aside as the pair approached, and then resumed their conversations.

Zavala lead her out through the doors and back onto the torn up field. The ruins were now eerily quiet, a haze of dirt and powder still hanging thin in the air around it.

Five Guardians were heading across the field toward them, three walking in a cluster a dozen yards ahead of the other two. Min instantly recognized Rhonda, Ian, and Tychon. Tychon had his hand on Rhonda's arm, and both the newbies looked ragged and shell-shocked. As she watched them pass, Min felt that tightening in her gut again, the taste in her mouth going bitter. Despite what she'd been told and what most of her thought even made sense, she couldn't get over the fact that Nara had been torturing Rhonda…and _laughing_.

They approached the two trailing behind. Both had their helmets off and Min's first thought was that it was no wonder the others called them the Twins.

She could tell which was which by their armor. Blayd's suit was heavy and functional and painted in scarlet and gold. The helmet tucked under her arm had a broadly sweeping faceplate and a stiff brush of scarlet horsehair rising in a thick strip along its ridge. The cloth at her waist was a half-skirt of tan and dark brown, elegantly embroidered with the image of a howling wolf. A heavy rifle fraught with filigree and the size of a small child was slung over her shoulder. A short and nasty looking blade was in her belt.

Nara's armor she recognized instantly- dark and thick and oily, it had the same spiny metal ridges over the shoulder-pads as was on the miasmic helmet held in her hand. Just over her shoulder, Min could see the handle of that horrific skull-faced rifle. The cloth she wore at her waist was dark gray, and looked as if she had deliberately smeared a bloody hand over it to clean it off.

Beyond their armor, the two women were of the same height, with thick shaggy black hair in uneven chops. They looked like they both cut their hair merely by taking handfuls of it and slicing it off with a dagger, unconcerned with aesthetic. They had the same almost agonizingly straight nose, the same broad cheekbones, the same stern chin, the same arch to their brows, the same lips. Their skin and eyes were the exact same shade of brown as the others'.

There was no other explanation for what she was seeing save that the two were actual identical twins, as astronomical as those chances may have been.

 _Twins, or clones_ , Min thought.

There would be no mistaking one for the other, however- even if they had dressed the same. Blayd had a scar on her lower lip that was puzzling in its presence: Ghost healing left no scars. She also had a smear of pale blue-green spread in a band over her eyes from temple to temple, eyebrows to cheekbones. It could not be makeup- the woman was grimy with sweat and the band was perfect.

 _A tattoo of some kind?_

Nara's face was mostly covered by the broad, white suggestion of a skull that came down to her upper lip. Her dark eyes glittered from the eye sockets with a secret and frenetic light that her sister's eyes lacked. Though they were not green, they reminded Min of the swirls of miasma in her helmet, the spills of swamp light from her weapon's macabre beak.

"Big Boss?" Blayd said to Zavala as they reached them. She smiled slightly but her eyes were wary. "What have you got?"

"News," Zavala said. "One of the Vanished has returned."

He explained quickly about Eris Morn's sudden reappearance, and her odd condition. Blayd appeared to catch on one detail.

"Ship? You say she stole a ship?" she asked.

"So it appears," Zavala told her. "Holliday and her bots are going over it now."

"Can I see it?"

"I want no one unnecessary near that ship for the time being," he said. "Until we can be sure if it is safe and what we are dealing with. We're taking everything cautiously, including Eris Morn. The changes to her..."

Min glanced at Nara as he said those words. The motion was unconscious, but badly timed. Her eyes met Nara's as the Guardian looked at her as well.

"You got something to say, newbie?" Nara asked. It was the first time she'd spoken. Her voice sounded much like Blayd's as well, but only if her sister had possessed a chain-smoking habit. She grinned as she said it, and the grin seemed to send the vague shadows moving behind her eyes into high vibration.

Min said nothing, but neither did she look away. Nara's grin gained a hair, then she lifted a hand and thumped Minerva over the sternum with the back of her hand as she looked at Zavala, then back at Min. "You seen the films for today yet, Big Boss? You should have seen the newb here light up coming after me. Shaxx call you yet for Titan? He's slipping if not."

"She has already been called," Zavala said, but his eyes moved to Minerva thoughtfully. "You lit up?"

"I don't know what that means," Minerva said.

"It means you tapped into your Light's ability to control energy that surrounds you," Blayd said, and Minerva remembered when, during the fight, Nara had hopped into the air and come down so hard with her fist she'd left a crater behind. Pale blue flashes of light had surrounded her and had been driven into the ground when she'd done that, as if she'd joined forces with a lightning strike. Then she remembered that feeling at the very end of the fight, right before Shaxx had stopped them. She'd been charging Nara, and something had seemed to flash in her mind- a growing glow and a painless heat. Had she been about to do much the same?

Zavala didn't comment on this further, but he looked deeply thoughtful again before returning his attention to the Twins. "I have no expectations of the two of you in regards to Eris Morn," he said. "I thought you just deserved to know that one of them came back. What you do with that information is up to you."

"Can we clear to go back to the Moon?" Nara said, finally tearing her gaze away from Min and fixing it on Zavala. Min didn't miss the way her sister suddenly seemed to pale. "One came back against odds; might be some of the others are still alive up there after all."

"No," Zavala said firmly. "You cannot clear to return to the Moon. It remains off-limits until we get a better handle on the situation and hear what Morn has to say. I will not risk more Guardians."

Nara scowled but didn't argue. Instead she said, "I want to talk to her when she's able."

"I will let you know," Zavala agreed. Nara nodded, then stepped past the pair without a further word and strode off toward the lobby.

"Thank you Zavala," Blayd said, then nodded pleasantly to Minerva. "It was good to meet you, Guardian. Welcome to the Titans."

"Thank you," Min replied, and Blayd headed away after her twin.

"She's eager to return to the Moon?" Min said after the pair was out of hearing range.

"Yes," Zavala told her. "I like to think it's out of a desire to complete their original failed mission and finally find out what happened to their fellow Guardians- and avenge them if possible."

"But you're not sure," Min stated.

"No. However she's had a thousand chances to disobey our orders and has not yet done so. I do not think she'll start now."

"Blayd seemed terrified of the suggestion of going back."

"We still don't know what the two of them might have gone through up there. Blayd doesn't consciously remember but subconsciously such things can never be erased. Whatever it was, Eris Morn has been up there going through it for five years. I don't know whether or not to hope for her madness or her sanity."

* * *

The next several days settled into a routine and endless torment. Each morning Min would wake in her tiny room to the cheerful greeting of her Ghost and the usual presence of at least one or two cats. After eating it was down to the Crucible, where hours felt like years and every possible agony seemed to lurk in the shattered stone of the ruins. Then it would be a return to her room and a drop into a heavy sleep plagued with sudden nightmares and wake-starts that left her bathed in sweat, her heart racing. The first night, those wake-starts had involved vomiting and sobbing. After two or three days however, the vomiting stopped.

She did not see Kalina during these days- a time she was already thinking of as the Torture. The faces of the Guardians in the battle blended together; she did not linger in the lobby as many of them did at the end of the day though more than once some random group of Titans had tried to call her over to join them. One small blessing in the midst of this chaos was that the Twins had not yet put in a visit back to the Crucible, and Min had not had to face Nara or her venomous gun again.

Every moment spent in the Crucible was learning how to fight, and how to die. The dying she did more of- at first. Slowly, however, the Torture seemed to be doing its intended job. She was getting better, lasting longer, and starting to fear those incidents of sucking oblivion or exquisite pain less.

She heard nothing more of Eris Morn, and for the time being she was more than happy to put that strange, mummy-smelling woman out of her mind completely.

Weapon's training was the same as the rest- you grabbed a weapon and you learned to use it on the fly in the heat of battle. If you didn't, you died. Like most of the Titans seemed to, she found herself favoring high-speed automatic rifles that could chew through an opponent in a flurry of shot; though her first experiences of these was very much of the 'spray and pray' variety, she was becoming far more precise and less wasteful of her ammunition. Unlike her fellow Titans, she did not find a natural favor when it came to shotguns. She could not seem to find a natural balance of precision to range with them that suited her.

She also had not 'lit' up again, much as she had tried too, and that frustrated her. All of the Guardians, it seemed, had ways to use their Light to tap into various energies around them. They could use manipulations of these energies to create shields for themselves against weapons, to redirect fire, as projectiles themselves, or in the case of Titans, to add a devastating amount of power to physical blows that could literally tear apart stone or crack the ground itself.

These abilities were immensely frustrating to be on the wrong side of, yet try as she might Minerva could not seem to use them herself. Whatever she had tapped into that first day against Nara was now completely eluding her.

She had long since lost count of how many days had passed before she saw Shaxx waiting for her in the lobby one evening. Her muscles ached and burned and her eyelids dragged at her, but for the first time in a bout she had only died twice. She might have a long way to go, but she was finally starting to feel like she might have a chance to succeed at this weird hand Fate had dealt her.

"Minerva, Zavala would like you to meet him upstairs before you retire," Shaxx said, and nodding tiredly, Min went past and into the lift. The usual knots of happily chattering veterans and their rumble of translated voices vanished as the doors shut and the lift sped her upwards.

"I wonder why Zavala wants to see you," her Ghost said after a moment.

"I don't know," she said. Surely it was too early for fieldwork? She wasn't ready yet, she didn't think.

"Perhaps it's about that Morn woman."

"I have nothing to do with her," Minerva said. "Zavala wouldn't want to see me because of her."

The Ghost hummed thoughtfully, not sounding entirely convinced but not bothering to argue. "Perhaps then…they discovered something about your past?"

Min's stomach seemed to shrink and close in on itself. She had completely forgotten that the Vanguard were going to dig into her history, her life before waking on that deserted, freezing Russian freeway.

"They couldn't have found something that quickly, could they?" she said. If they had, she was suddenly incredibly certain she didn't want to hear it.

"I don't know. Stranger things have happened, I suppose."

She shook her head. "Why don't we stop trying to guess? We'll find out for certain in just a few minutes anyway."

Emerging from the lift she headed toward the Hall, that large room that served as a combination war room, communications center, and central council chambers of the Vanguard. At any given time, day or night, a scattering of Guardians and a dozen various Tower personnel were in this room.

As she stepped inside, she spotted Zavala standing beside the huge central table, looking over a projected light map of some place she didn't recognize and reading over half a dozen reports that were scattered in front of him. Cayde-6 and Ikora Rey were both there as well, but neither seemed to notice her, intent as they were on their conversation.

She wasn't sure that Zavala was going to notice her either, but as she neared he spoke. "You will not be in the Crucible tomorrow, Minerva."

"I won't?" She asked, blinking dully at him as she stopped nearby.

"No," he said. "You have been working very hard and are making excellent progress, but it is my understanding you have been isolating yourself. You emerge from the Crucible and return directly to your room, only to leave to attend the Crucible again. Is that true?"

He finally looked at her, and she nodded.

"May I ask why?"

"I thought that I was to concentrate on my training," she said, puzzled.

"And you are," he said. "But not all of your training is merely sleeping and fighting. You have been here now for six weeks, and you have spent none of that time on recreational or social activities. You still appear as lean as a newborn, so you are also not eating enough. A great deal of your training is learning how to fight and how to conquer fear, pain, and death- but it is not meant to be at the expense of the rest of your sanity, or humanity. This duty steals enough of that, there is no reason to give it more than is necessary."

His eyes returned to the reports and he leaned on the table as he regarded them. "Tomorrow," he said, "no Crucible. Recover your strength, spend some time in the Tower getting to know the place and the people in it. And for Light's sake, _eat_. The sheer amount of calories you use fighting is one thing, but repeated healing also takes its toll. If you forgo eating the proper amount you only exhaust yourself even more, and an exhausted Guardian is a sloppy Guardian."

"I understand."

"Good. You are dismissed."

She left the Hall, and as she headed toward her room she felt a bit of relief over the idea she wouldn't have to fight tomorrow. Oddly, that relief grated on her a little. As she brooded over why, her Ghost made a sound like he was clearing his throat. She looked up at him.

"What?"

"…eat?" he said, making a slight gesture back the other way, where food lay instead of beds. She let out a weary, slightly groaning breath, then reluctantly turned her course.

"Yeah," she said, feeling every bit of the exhaustion winding around her bones and doing her best to put it out of her mind. "I suppose food first."


	11. Chapter 11

Minerva headed back to the usual spot by rote. She'd learned that there were quite a few more places to get food besides the somewhat cobbled together little cafeteria, but habit pulled her always back to this particular place.

 _Not only this place_ , she thought as she sat down with her tray. _But also this seat_.

Apparently, she was very much a creature of routine. One thing about awakening in a new time with what amounted to total amnesia- you discovered the most interesting things about yourself.

For example, she had discovered that she was right handed. Not that unusual, most people seemed to be (though the Exos were fairly ambidextrous). She'd also discovered that as far as flavor and textures went, she liked crunchy and savory, not so much mushy and bland. She didn't seem to have much of a sweet tooth. Wasn't a big fan of bitter, though spicy was _definitely_ her thing. Unfortunately, spicy seemed to be hard to get here.

She liked green, not so much red, though a nice burgundy was great. Yellow made things look jaundiced.

She also knew words like 'jaundiced' and what they meant in a medical sense. She seemed to know a fair amount of medical and chemical linguistics that the average person would probably be less than passingly familiar. And it wasn't just that she knew the definition of words like 'jaundiced' and 'linguistics' but that she _naturally thought in them_.

She wondered if she had some kind of scientific background. Anatomy as well seemed a bit of her strong suit (she knew without being told, for example, that shooting someone in a particular spot of the thigh would hit a major artery- and honestly the bleed-out _had_ been fairly spectacular) so maybe a medical doctor? A nurse?

It seemed completely out of sorts with her new reality. If she had been a doctor, for example, why was she brought back with the gifts of a Titan? The gifts were reliant on your very DNA after all, your natural inclinations, strengths, talents. Your class wasn't supposed to alter who you intrinsically were- it was supposed to be 'you', _plus_.

And here she was, a Titan who tossed out words like 'intrinsically' in her own internal monologue.

Maybe she was just being a slave to stereotypes. Nothing at all said that a Titan had to be dumb just because they were physical powerhouses. She'd only talked to a handful thus far, and briefly, but none of them struck her as dumb- certainly not Shaxx or Zavala.

So what was it then? Was she a doctor who liked to box or lift weights as a hobby? A soldier who secretly read Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Solzhenitsyn and had a thing for medical texts?

She paused as she lifted a final spoonful from her tray toward her mouth. Dostoyevsky. Tolstoy. Solzhenitsyn. In her idle thoughts of just a moment ago she knew without thinking who those people were, what they had written. As she focused on the names in surprise, they darted like startled fish, back out of sight into the dark waters of her memory. Now they were meaningless syllables, the names of strangers.

 _Why am I even thinking about this? It doesn't matter, and I don't want to know it anyway._

She finished eating and cleared her tray, but as she went to leave the little cafeteria she realized she had no idea where else to _go_. Her whole life thus far had been the Crucible, the cafeteria, her bed, and for a few short minutes, the docking bay and 'infirmary'.

For the briefest of moments she considered going to the dock and checking out that strange ship. For an even briefer moment, she considered finding the infirmary again and seeing its even stranger pilot. Then she decided wandering aimlessly in a place she barely knew, at high risk of getting totally lost, was far more appealing.

Crossing the corridors she was familiar with, she turned deliberately into one she wasn't, and set off. Her Ghost offered to download a map schematic of the tower but for the first hour she refused. When she didn't manage to get anywhere interesting she finally agreed. It took him nanoseconds, and he projected the image on one of the walls. Something immediately caught her eye, and in moments again she was off.

The Plaza- or so it was labelled on the image- was near the very top of the Tower. Taking the lift up, she stepped outside into morning sunshine and immediately caught her breath.

A wide open vista greeted her, an expanse of concrete softened by sections of parklike grass and rustling trees. Shops and stalls flanked three sides of this open space but they were demure, manufactured so as not to be ostentatious or out of place given their surroundings.

The day was still cool with morning but the promise of a hot afternoon lingered in the faint breeze. The light was golden and spilled everywhere. The air was so fresh it almost hurt her lungs.

The one side of the Plaza that was not ringed by shops, or backed by the walls of the tower itself, was open to the world save for what looked like a cursory railing. One or two small ships were actually 'parked' on the other side of this railing, and as she walked closer she could see the long beams that acted as anchors. It took no questioning or imagination to figure out the small ships belonged to Guardians. The Plaza was dotted with them.

Some were at the shops, bartering items they'd found in the field for gear they could use when they went back to it. A few were lounging around the grassy areas, alone or in pairs. More than a handful stood at what looked like a bar front in one of the Tower walls. Whatever morality judgement Minerva might have made in her 'old life' regarding drinking at this hour of the day, the new 'her' didn't even register. An hour in the Crucible alone justified drinking any fucking time of the day a Guardian pleased, in her opinion.

Along the middle of the Plaza, six Guardians in full armor were kicking around a black and white ball in what looked like some kind of a game. Laughs and friendly taunts filled the air around them.

Min spared them a curious glance as she walked past, but they were immersed in what they were doing and none looked her way.

Since almost the moment she had been 'born', Min had heard about the last City of mankind, and the Traveler. Until she stepped up to the railing of the Plaza that morning, however, she had never seen either of them.

The view took her breath away.

The Tower on which she stood soared to dizzying heights. At least eight thousand feet below, a valley spread out in the morning sunshine. Mountains loomed to her left and right as far as she could see, craggy faces crusted with bright glints of snow.

The valley was ringed in by foothills and a great wall that itself had to stand five hundred or more feet tall. It was a thick bulwark of iron, a marvel of engineering-the only front between the valley and the rest of the world.

The valley itself was green, littered with buildings, roadways, bridges. The wide band of a river meandered through it, reflecting the light of the morning sun in liquid gold.

On its own, the view would have been breathtaking, but it was completely overshadowed by what she could only assume was the Traveler.

It was as if the moon itself had come from the sky to rest over the city, the broken base of it only a couple of hundred feet above the tops of the tallest spires of the City. And broken it was- the bottom of the softly gray sphere appeared gouged, fractured. From this distance Min could not be sure, but it seemed she could see within the gouges to metal structures that formed the interior, a girder-like framework.

As her eyes boggled at the sheer beauty and wonder of the scene, her mind was similarly boggling at the implications of it.

 _Something that large would have its own gravity- how is it that it can sustain such a precise distance above the City without either tearing it or itself apart? The gravitational shifts in the planet's crust should be immense. Not to mention the amount of power it would take to hold itself just so…_

Aloud she said, "Is that the Traveler?" though she already knew the answer.

"Yes," her Ghost replied in an almost reverential tone.

"I…thought it was dead?"

"You're wondering how something so 'dead' still has so much power, aren't you?"

 _This_ voice was unfamiliar. She looked over to see she was not alone as she had thought. A man, an Exo, was sitting on the railing not ten feet away from her. His legs were dangling over thousands of feet of open air but he sat as casually as if he were on a picnic bench.

He wore a heavy coat cinched at the waist. The faintly glowing blue armband on his left arm marked him as a Warlock. A dark gray Ghost hovered almost morosely nearby. As Min saw it she realized she hadn't heard the Exo speak and then his Ghost's Russian translation. It seemed the Exo spoke Russian himself.

"I _was_ curious," she said as he looked at him. "To hold such a position indefinitely, to be able to power whatever technology it is that allows it to do so without gravity being a factor, to be able to create the Ghosts for that matter-"

"Seems very active for a 'dead' creature," the Exo said with a faint nod. "Yet dead it seems to be, for all of that."

He measured her with a glance of his yellow eyes. "My name is Gen, by the way," he said, pronouncing the name with a hard G like the one in 'game'. "Gen-11."

"Minerva Anosova," she said.

"Both names," he said wonderingly. "You're not wearing a mark, but I don't think you're a Warlock…"

"I'm not, I'm a Titan," she said. "I get that a lot. You speak Russian?"

"I speak seventy-six different languages," he said. "I prefer to talk to my fellow Guardians in their own tongues rather than having my friend here repeat everything. So. You're a _clever_ Titan."

He looked back out toward the Traveler. "I don't know why people keep being surprised over clever Titans, bullish Hunters, or straight-speaking Warlocks. We're not caricatures. Any sentient creature is a combination of many complex traits, not just a shallow one dimensional thing. Yet, the surprise keeps coming…even from me."

Min eyed him a little. He was the first warlock, besides Ikora Rey, she'd spent any amount of time talking with. He was odd to say the least. Whether that oddness was one of his 'complex traits' or a usual expectation of warlocks, she didn't know.

"Why don't you have a mark?" he asked after a moment, and looked back at her.

"I haven't gotten one yet," she said. "I was only born a few weeks ago. I am still working the Crucible."

"I see," he said. "Is this your first view of the City and the Traveler?"

"Yes," she said, and looked outward again herself. "It is beautiful."

"It is that," he said. "I suppose it goes without saying that you haven't actually been down _in_ the City yet either, have you?"

"No, I haven't."

"Well, then. Would you like to? I tend to wander through it quite often. I'm happy to show you."

She looked at him, then back out at the buildings glittering in the sunlight below.

 _Well, what else were you going to do today?_

"I would love to see it. Thank you."

He nodded, then pulled himself up from his perch. He didn't clamber back over the railing as she expected him to. Instead, he stood up on the railing itself, nothing between him and the ground far below save an easy teeter of balance. He looked at her again.

"Well? Come on then."

"What are you doing?" she asked, though she was pretty sure she knew the answer already.

"Taking the fastest way down to the City. Unless you want to spend nearly half an hour wandering through halls, going down stairs and lifts, then clearing three security points."

Min stared at him, then looked over the railing. The ground below was so distant no details but a soft gray green merled with white could be seen. It was still in the Tower's shadow and the cool had prevented the morning ground mists from burning off completely yet.

She felt very aware of every single foot, every _inch_ of space between her and the ground below.

"Have you not died by falling yet?" the warlock asked.

"No," she said softly, still looking down.

"Every choice is taken away from you," he said. "You are perfectly aware until the moment of impact. You know what is happening, what is going to happen, and nothing whatsoever you do can stop it. No choice you make, no effort, no frantic struggle does a single thing to halt it. Human, Exo, Awoken…sentient beings are capable of moving mountains, destroying planets, shaping entire oceans. Gravity seems so benign in comparison but in a single heartbeat it can completely erase the strongest sentient will and reduce it to nothing more than a grain of sand tossed in a torrential river. You can do nothing but be consumed in it until you hit the ground. All power is stripped from you."

"Then why do it?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Well, for one, there's freedom in surrendering control. It seems like an oxymoron perhaps, but it is true. For another, only by allowing our power to be stripped by something so mighty-and then walking away with our power regained-do we become even _more_ powerful. Lastly…it's the fastest way down."

Their eyes met for a moment and she could see amusement sparking in his before he gave a small gesture, and hopped off the railing into open air as casually as someone would step off a curb.

Min's throat clenched and her chest knotted as he plummeted downward with a sharp, crisp flap of his overcoat. His Ghost darted down after him.

Her eyes felt locked on him as he grew swiftly smaller, and smaller. It was so far down that she could no longer see the black speck of his form some moments before he would have hit the ground.

"He's mad," her own Ghost said softly. Then, "What are you doing?"

Min had grabbed the railing with shaking hands, and pulled herself upward. Her stomach was a riot of dancing insects as she balanced carefully on the top rail, straightening to her full height. Her mouth was dry, her eyes stung and watered, and an exquisite fear seemed to be melting into her soul like hot iron sinking into flesh.

"It's the fastest way down," she said in a low dry voice.

Spreading her arms, heart thundering, she jumped after him.


	12. Chapter 12

Minerva's stomach lurched and dropped, before rapidly seeming to rise and settle itself in the vicinity of her throat. Her heart thundered in a panic, and breath seemed all but impossible to get.

The air whipped around her as she fell, roaring with an intently blank voice, a sound of pure instinct. She could not see, the frigid wind blasting into her eyes immediately painful, swarming them with tears.

There was nothing to grab on to, nothing to stop herself. True to Gen's words she felt a complete helplessness that she'd never before experienced. No matter what she did, no matter how she fought or screamed or struggled- she was going to fall until she hit the ground and died.

A gray blur that was the Tower was streaking past her on one side. Everything else was a riot of split and shining light- yellows and greens and blues and grays. The tears streaming from her eyes were damping her temples in frigid ice.

 _Going to die. Going to die. Can't stop. Going to die._

Then something amazing happened. Her stomach seemed to right itself and return back to its proper place. She no longer had the sensation that she was falling. The panic was going away and in its place…

Minerva let out a scream again, but this time it was of laughter. She felt buoyant, high, almost transformed. She wasn't falling- she was _flying!_

The air kept her eyes watering, making it impossible to see anything but those slivers of light and color, but she could tell from that alone that of course she _was_ still falling. The ground was sweeping nearer and nearer. No matter what her body was telling her she absolutely _was not_ flying and in a few short moments she would hit that onrushing ground and die.

 _I've died before. Light save me, I've died before and it's hurt a lot worse than this will. Until then, I'm_ flying, _damn it!_

She let out another whoop of joy, and then couldn't seem to stop laughing.

"This is wonderful!" she shouted to the howling air. "This is _wonderful!"_

Blinking rapidly, she realized the green and gray blur that was the ground was taking up nearly her entire field of vision now. She was getting close. Any moment now and it would be over. Until that moment came, however, she was going to save every precious instant of it, hoard the joy she felt like gold.

Seconds. It could only be seconds left now.

Then, a tingle that had nothing to do with the cold air crept suddenly over her skin. She could feel the fine hairs on her arms lift as one, and a dry crackling sensation. Light seemed to be filling up the space behind her eyes- a pale blue light that grew in a surge, flooding into her, igniting her very cells.

Instinctively she hauled her arms together and pointed them down in front of her. The energy, the light, it was hers. She had called it, pulled it out of the ether, and she knew _exactly_ what to do with it.

That static rush left her skin and the light flared and then surged out in front of her. It struck the ground only fifty feet or so away now, rebounded, and swept back up toward her like a blossoming rose. As it reached her she was suddenly enveloped in warmth, the cold rushing wind dashed aside. She felt herself slowing, cradled as if by a giant invisible hand. Slowing…and then…

She hit the ground with only as much force as if she'd fallen ten or fifteen feet instead of thousands. There was a brief pain in her left wrist as it bent awkwardly and broke, and she tumbled a little, then settled on her back on soft grass. Above her, the Tower soared like a monolith, haloed at its crest by the morning sun. The sky was a perfect blue and gold.

Sprawled on the grass, panting for breath, Minerva began to laugh again. She barely noticed her frantic Ghost zip down beside her, muttering under its breath about insanity as it set about scanning her and fixing her fractured wrist.

A shadow fell over her.

"Well, that's one way to not leave a crater," Gen-11 said as he looked down at her. "I've seen Light used as a shield before but never an airbag."

"Is that what I did?" she asked, grinning up at him. "I used the Light? Made an airbag?"

"Weren't you intending to?"

"Not really," she said. "It just kind of…happened."

He held out a hand and she reached up and clasped it, letting him haul her to her feet. She was still laughing, and bent over with her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

"Quite a sensation, isn't it?" Gen said.

"It was wonderful," Minerva said. "I feel giddy."

"You're high on adrenaline and dopamine," he said, and folded his arms. "Be careful. I hear such a high is addictive."

She straightened and wiped her eyes, still grinning. "I haven't felt anything like that since I was born," she said. "I don't think I've felt this happy before."

"'Happy' is a rare feeling in this world anymore," Gen said seriously. "I'm glad I could help you feel it."

Wiping her eyes again, she glanced around. The grass spread around them in a big field that moved right up to the base of the tower. A few hundred yards away a small river gleamed, and a wide footbridge moved over it. Beyond that, she could see the start of buildings, and the bulk of the City beyond them. Over it, looking even more massive now than from above, loomed the silent Traveler.

The grass seemed unmarred, save two small patches a dozen feet away that looked scorched in an odd fan shape. Given the speed at which they were traveling and the weight of metal that Gen was made up of, there should be at least a flattened patch and a definite impression where he'd hit the ground, even if his Ghost had repaired him.

Puzzled, she asked "Didn't you-? Did you 'airbag' too?"

He unfolded his arms and then suddenly lifted into the air three or four feet. Six inch long blue white flames were shooting out of his boots, the air below them rippling. The grass underneath flattened, and then started to darken as the flames scorched it. He hovered a moment, then dropped again as the flames died.

"Jump jets," he said. "Most Guardians have them. You'll get some in time too- they're extremely useful. I've died loads of times from falling, didn't need to do it again. Come on. I'll buy you a drink- celebrate your first 'happy'."

They crossed the grass and then the bridge. Min's legs were still shaking and she still felt on top of the world, though the feeling was starting to settle. She couldn't seem to get enough looking around, taking in everything from the grass and trees to the metal of the bridge, the liquid flow of the water, the color of the air and rising buildings in the distance. She feared she was gaping like a school child and so looked at the Warlock.

"How long have you been a Guardian, Gen?"

"Nine years," he said. "I was found on Mars, outside the Exclusion Zone."

"Exclusion Zone?" she asked.

"Mars more or less belongs to the Cabal. They're a military species. The Tower doesn't like to butt heads with them unless it's absolutely necessary, and even then…a lot of very good Guardians have fallen to the Cabal over the years, including the one that found me as a newborn."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said.

"What about you? Where were you found?"

"Earth," she said. "Outside of one of the old Russian cosmodromes. Kalina found me."

"Hunter?"

"Do you know her?"

"We've never spoken but I know _of_ her. You'll find as time goes on that it's hard for there to be a Guardian you've never at least heard of. From what I understand she's pretty skilled, and pretty silly."

Minerva frowned at him. "I didn't find her silly," she said defensively, even though it wasn't true. There had been plenty of times Kalina had struck her as silly and even downright bizarre, though she hadn't seen Kalina at all since the Hunter had gotten banned from the Crucible.

Gen looked at her, the little pieces on his face that mimicked eyebrows uplifted. "I didn't mean it as an insult," he said. "If she's able to find joy and happiness in jokes and frivolity, then good for her I say. It's what a Guardian does in the field that matters, anyway. Have you met Cayde?"

"Yes."

"Most ridiculous man you'll ever meet," he said. "But it didn't stop him from making Vanguard. He might make a joke while doing it, but he can still pop a Fallen in the eye from half a planet away with a spitball."

She blinked at him, then smirked. "That's an exaggeration," she said.

He smirked back. "Only a little. The way _he_ tells it you'd not only believe it but believe you'd seen it yourself."

Their conversation continued as they started to pass the first signs of civilization, which looked like small farms. Min had seen no other sign of life than the inhabitants of the Tower and the cats, but here and there were people working in gardens or passing in and out of greenhouses, the occasional bird or small flock of sheep and goats. Then a dog barked at her tiredly from behind a fence and as she stared at it she finally thought to ask.

"Gen, what is it with the cats at the Tower?"

"The cats?" he asked. "What about them?"

"There's so many of them," she said. "They just kind of wander around freely."

"Well, of course," he said. "They're there to do what cats have done since time immemorial. It's the oldest exchange program in the world."

"Exchange program?" she blinked at him.

"We give them shelter, treat wounds or illness, and show them the occasional affection," he said. "In exchange, they keep the rats and mice and various insects out of the Tower, and more importantly, the food stores."

"Oh," she said, suddenly feeling stupid that this hadn't been obvious from the beginning. Kalina had told her how hard it was to maintain food supplies for the City and the Tower- having rats and mice get into what food stores there were would be catastrophic. What better way to keep them out than to keep around the most efficient mouse traps nature had ever designed?

"You don't like cats?" he asked.

"I don't mind them," she said. "At least, I don't seem too."

"Ah, yes. You're still discovering yourself, aren't you?"

As they walked deeper into the City proper, more and more buildings clustered around them, and more and more people seemed to be appearing. There were vehicles surrounding them now- everything from crude hand-pulled carts to strange hovering motorbikes that hummed and growled whenever they passed. Everyone wore a patchwork mix of clothes and styles, similar to those in the Tower. They varied just as widely- from garish costumes to tattered and patched homespun. The faces were the same- mostly human with some Awoken and Exos, from the worn and narrow and dirty to those painted with makeup and capped with the most outlandish hairstyles.

The further into the City they walked, the less the patched homespun and dirty faces. People seemed to be better fed in here, though no one appeared to be wallowing in opulence.

The oddest thing was the stares. As they walked, nearly everyone moved out of their way and stared at them. They looked almost frightened.

"They…don't always look at Guardians like this do they?" she asked.

"Sometimes," he said. "Guardians keep the City safe, and they well know that. We're highly respected here, almost revered, but people can be frightened of us too. There's a bit of mythology that floats around regarding us. Silly stories, some of it, but work and gossip is about all anyone can do here. They're not staring like this just because we're Guardians though."

"Then why?"

"You're not wearing a mark, are you?" he said almost cheerfully. "One of those myths is that a Guardian never goes without their mark and if you see one without one, that Guardian has cast aside the Tower and is about to join the Darkness."

Min gaped at him, horrified. "They think I'm a-"

He laughed. "It's all right, calm down. I said it was a myth, it's just one people tend to believe."

"But I just haven't gotten a mark yet. I haven't even seen where to get one. I don't know if they're given out or-"

"Relax," he said, then steered her toward one of the nearby buildings. "Come on, in here."

The building turned out to be some kind of tavern. They sat down at one of the battered tables and Gen waved a man over. He was a narrow man, and he looked at them just as narrowly as he approached.

"Gen?" he asked warily, eyeing Min.

"It's all right, Roff. She's not a traitor, she's just a newbie. Hasn't got her mark yet. What's your poison, Minerva? I said I'd buy you a drink."

"Uh…" She hadn't yet had any alcohol yet and wasn't sure what it was like, or if she'd like it. She had no idea what to order.

Gen eyed her and then said to Roff, "Bring her a beer and me a frutt would you?"

"Sure," Roff said. He seemed to have relaxed, and gave Min a wink. "On the house for the new Guardian."

He shuffled away, and was back a few minutes later with a large mug and a small bottle, which he set before them. Min picked up the mug and sniffed. She must have made a face because Roff chuckled.

"Good luck," he said with another wink, then left them to talk.

"What's that?" she asked, looking at the bottle in front of Gen.

"Frutt," he said. "You wouldn't like it. Exo thing."

It turned out the beer was drinkable, if not the best flavor in the world. She sipped at it now and again as she and Gen continued to talk. Minerva felt she hadn't talked so much before in her life, but somehow the adrenaline rush from jumping off the Tower had opened the flood gates. Gen was also patient, answering each without sign of annoyance or disinterest.

She rather liked him, she decided. He was odd at moments, somewhat morose at times, and kept making amused sounds in what seemed inappropriate places- as if he saw some hidden absurdity to the darker parts of existence and had resigned himself to that absurdity.

All in all, however, he was a good guy and she found herself glad she'd run into him. It was well into afternoon when they left the pub and the renewed stares of those in the street again reminded her of her missing mark. She was just about to ask how one was supposed to get a mark when suddenly Gen's Ghost made a strange chattering sound that seemed to catch her own Ghost's attention.

Gen as well paused and looked at it. The sound was brief, and then followed by the Ghost rattling off in a language Min neither spoke nor recognized. She automatically expected her Ghost to translate but it remained silent. She blinked at it, as Gen replied to his Ghost in the same language, then looked at Min.

"Sorry," he said. "I've got a mission alert I must attend."

"Mission alert?" she asked.

"Large group of Fallen have been spotted in Ohio," he said. "Dispersal pattern suggests they're looking for something. There's a small group of civilians in that area as well- nomad clan. Tower wants a few of us on site to find out what the Fallen are up to and make sure the civilians are protected. I've called my ship to come pick us up-"

" _Us?"_

"You've ridden digitally before?"

"Well, yeah, but-..."

"But…?"

"I'm not field cleared yet," she said. "I don't have any weapons or armor."

"The arms and armor aren't a problem," he said. "I've got enough stored digitally I haven't had to trade yet, I can get you geared up. You've got to go into the field sometime, Minerva. What's the worst that could happen?"

"I could get civilians killed," she said. "And if Zavala hasn't field cleared me-"

Gen turned his head and chittered again at his Ghost. The Ghost replied and a moment later, Zavala's voice came out of it.

" _What is it, Gen?"_

"Zavala, apologies. I'm in the City with a newbie of yours, Minerva. I'm about to head off to help in Ohio. Would you mind if she tags along?"

" _Anasova? Is she geared?"_

"We have that covered," Gen told him. "If it helps, she just jumped off the Tower so we could tour the City."

" _This may actually be a good field test for her,"_ Zavala said thoughtfully. _"Very well. Minerva, you're cleared to accompany Gen-11. Three other Guardians will be on site as well- I expect you to obey all orders they might give you. I want a full report from your Ghost when you've returned. Zavala out."_

"There you go," Gen said. The wind picked up suddenly as a small Guardian fighter appeared out of the sky, lowering toward them. It stopped to hover just a few feet above the nearby buildings. "You're all cleared. Off we go then?"

Min stared at him in shock, her thoughts a riot. Was she ready for this? Gen seemed to think so but he'd only known her for a few hours now. What carried more weight was that Zavala seemed to think she was, at least with some level of supervision.

And why not? She had to get out there sometime, didn't she? She had no delusions that she was good enough or ready enough to go out on her own but with others to guide her…well, why not? Wasn't it time to see what else was out there, to finally see the creatures she had been brought back to fight?

"What do you think?" her Ghost asked her tentatively.

"I've got to get going, with or without you," Gen said. "You coming along or not?"

Min felt her resolve harden, and nodded. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I'm coming all right. Let's do this."

Gen nodded, and a moment later reality dissolved in a stream of light and energy as she was digitally transferred onto the waiting fighter.


End file.
